


Rust Or Stardust

by orphan_account



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Cheating, God I've missed David, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 37,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo and David have made their relationship work well despite the distance. Then Neymar stumbles along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strongest drug is another humanbeing

David feels a familiar tingle on his spine. That dull ache on his legs that urges him to pull over a jersey and run to the field. He ignores it and presses his palms against his thighs to calm his restless feet as he sat there, in Barca's empty dressing room.

The game had been amazing and David had that post-game euphoria, even though he hadn't even played. There was a hint of sadness in his joy, too; he missed wearing Barca's colors, missed the grass of Camp Nou and his old teammates. But most of all, he missed Leo.

David began to hear the echo of footsteps and voices, over the fading noise of the fans. He stood up from the bench he had been sitting and under a second later Pique walks in. Tall man stops in middle sentence talking to Dani when he sees Villa.

"Oh shit, where did you come from?" Gerard eyebrows shot to his hairline and David can't help the grin spreading on his face as he greets them with firm hug. There are surprised and happy shouts and laugh as more people come in, most of them crowding around him, hugging, patting shoulder and asking what hell he was doing there. David congratulates them of a good match and tries not to look or sound impatient, even when his heart pumps too loud in his chest and his eyes search only one face of them all.

Finally, he comes in. David stops listening rudely, and steps automatically towards Leo, who is the only one without smile when he sees David. His blank reaction stops David on his tracks too, few feet from frozen Leo. Neymar stands next to Leo, arm dropping off from his shoulder as he looks about as confused as David feels.

After a good second, Leo's eyes widen even more and his mouth forms David's name, even though he can't hear it over the celebration in the dressing room. Then, faster than David can react, Leo is in his space, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and lithe, sweaty body pressed against his.

"Why didn't you tell me, you idiot," David hears Leo mumble against his neck, voice thick with emotion, as he returns the embrace just as fiercely, "I thought that I was going crazy! Having a stress reaction or something."

"I’m sorry," David mouths a lie on Leo's salty skin and kisses it briefly.

"Oh no, don't," Leo starts to squirm away and David lets his hands fall on his hips, but doesn't let him go altogether.

"I'm disgusting now," Leo says quietly, with a smile, “Sweaty.” His hands trail absentmindedly on David's shoulders and biceps.

"I don't care," David answers truthfully, because he really doesn't. Maybe in the past he would have, in the past when they saw every day, but not now. Not when it had been so long. David had now learned to value every second he had to spend with Leo and not to take their relationship for granted. He was unbelievably happy that they could make it work.

Leo just hums happily; eyes lit up and smile so wide that it must hurt. David takes him in, before pressing their lips together briefly and it’s quick, but this time Leo doesn't pull back right away.

"Go take a shower. I'll wait," David murmurs, their faces only inches away.

Leo nods and David unwillingly lets go of him and only then he hears and sees all the people around them again. He hates how Leo had that effect on him; how he so easily forgets everything and everyone with him. Luckily no-one was paying attention on them at the moment; probably because most of them knew about him and Leo and because everyone’s too busy to celebrate their 5-1 victory. Not because he and Leo had a habit to kiss or make out in dressing rooms, because they didn’t. Except that one time when David sucked Leo off in the showers. But that was one time.

It takes an exception to make the rule, right?

Their teammates never really talked about it, except Pique and Fabregas, of course. Well, _nobody else_ ever talked about their relationship, but they knew it and kind of silently accepted it. Now he wasn't so sure anymore what people knew and thought. There had been a lot of rumors around when David left Barca, most of them however false.

David settled to talk with Xavi before he felt eyes on him. The dressing room was so full that it took a time for David to catch Neymar staring at him and the Brazilian lowered his eyes quickly when David caught him.

David chatted a another minute before the eyes on his neck felt too much to ignore and texted Leo that he would wait on the car and left.

David was just about to step out to the parking lot when he heard a shout behind, "Hey! Hey, _wait!_ " He turned around and saw Neymar jogging to catch him up. Neymar wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes as David opened the big glass doors and they stepped out to the warm night of Barcelona together.

They stood a moment in silence, Neymar obviously trying make up something to say. David ran a hand through his raven hair as they stood there side by side.

"You played well," David finally says, not to help the kid out, but to break the awkward spell between them.

"Yeah, thanks man," the Brazilian blows out a breath he’s been holding, hands digging deeper into jean pockets, "So... It's been a while you've been here, huh?" he continues.

"Awhile," David admits lowly. He really doesn't want to have this forced conversation. They've never really talked before and he fears that Neymar is going to drop a bomb or something; _hey, sorry man, I fucked your boyfriend by the way_ \- even though he knows for sure that Leo would never do anything like that.

"Um, what brings you back?" Brazilian asks and bites his lip, "Not that I mind or anything like that, just - just wondering."

David doesn't look him in the eye when he answers, "Some people."

He hopes that Neymar can read between the lines. That he meant mostly one people. Leo. He wishes that Neymar hears his words as a subtle warning to back off. Because David needs to mark his territory, no matter if Neymar does the flirting and touching unintentionally or not. David wants to tell Neymar to stop. _Stop touching and hugging him so much, stop looking him like you care more than you should_. But he doesn’t. He just really hopes that Neymar gets it without saying it aloud.

Leo had told him that there was nothing between him and the Brazilian and David has been trying to smother his jealousy, because he trusts Leo. He doesn't dislike Neymar as a person, really. He just hates how the guy’s hands are all over. How he hugs too long and touches Leo like he belongs to him.

"Some people, huh. By that I guess you just really mean Leo," Neymar says quietly, foot tapping on a fast tempo. David holds in a sarcastic reply and just nods, thinking vaguely that he’s not only one with restless feet.

"Sorry, I just have to ask something," Neymar suddenly turns facing him, speaking low and urgent, "You two are, I mean you and Leo, you are...uh, you know...?"

David waits a second, but Brazilian doesn't finish his sentence. The question already shows that Neymar either didn’t see them kiss in the dressing-room or he was just extremely thick. David bets the first one.

"Yeah," he answers simply, oddly happy that Neymar decided to ask it so straight out.

"Oh," Neymar turns again, turning to stare the empty parking lot like David, "Oh, okay. I figured so, but wasn't sure." He sounds so defeated and hollow that David almost feels bad for him under the deep satisfaction. _Message sent._ Other side of his mouth quirks little up.

 _God, you're horrible Villa_ , David thinks and that's the moment when Leo steps out, fresh from shower, and David doesn't have to hide his smile anymore.

Yet he still frowns at the way Neymar looks Leo with such a longing in his dark eyes. And David knows it’s childish and immature reaction, but he kisses Leo like a starving man and curls his hand around his hip, even though he has no worries that Leo would ever leave his side.

He knows that it’s stupid, but when Neymar turns away after that, he feels a lot better.


	2. Starving doesn't cover the hunger

David's hands are under Leo's shirt and his mouth on his skin before they even manage to tumble into the house. David thinks he is going crazy. Crazy from the scent of Leo's shampoo and from the small noises he makes between David's kisses. And even though he always remembers the feel of Leo’s skin, he can’t compare the memory to this.

Leo kicks the door shut with his leg, drops his training bag and pulls David in wet, open mouthed kiss with a tongue. It's hot and dirty, just like David wants it now. Gently touches and sweet kisses were for the afterglow tonight. They weren't always like this, but some nights they both needed it for a little harder, little faster.

David backs Leo against the closed door and pushes his legs apart with his knee and grinds against him. Leo groans into their kiss and parts his legs even more, inviting, and for a second David fears that he could come just from this. _No_. He wants more. He wants everything. Everything Leo has to offer and more, because he can never have enough of him. And he wants to be the only one having it.

His hands wander under Leo's tights and he lifts him up for a moment, against the door. He has gained a little muscle through the years, but he is still small and it’s not that David has to struggle. Leo gasps when their erections grind against through their clothing and David keeps rolling his hips up. It hurts a little, the tight grip Leo has on his hair and how his nails scrape on David's back, but he doesn't mind.

"Bed," Leo breaths and it sounds so much more of a command than question that David smirks at him.

"Yes sir," he teases and loves how Leo blushes a little. He still remembers how shy Leo was in the start of their relationship. It took time to build that trust and make Leo comfortable in bed. David can’t count the times he had to reassure that he wanted to hear the sounds from Leo's mouth; that he didn't have to hold them in.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, they had already lost most of their clothes, David showing a naked upper body and Leo only in his boxers.

"Fuck," David mutters as Leo's hot mouth is on his jaw and neck, skilled hands running over his caramel skin, biceps, chest, abs... stopping just above David's tight jeans. Sparkling eyes lift up to meet David's as if asking for permission.

David cocks one eyebrow and gives one-sided smirk. He pushes Leo down on the bed and steps back to unbuckle his belt and jeans maybe a little slower that was necessary. Leo, however, just sat up better, hand rubbing the front of his boxers, eyes wide and dark – shamelessly enjoying the show.

"Hands off," David tells him harshly. Leo squirms a little and puffs out a frustrated breath, but did as was told and laid his hands next to himself. David felt a thrill run in his spine – it really turned him on to see Leo obedient. He could see that it took an effort from Leo to stay so still. It was lucky that David wanted to be in control and Leo was happy give that to him. In the bed, not in pitch, though.

Soon David was out of his jeans and boxers and on the bed too, pushing Leo's hands off to his sides again when the younger man was about to touch him.

"Keep them there," David whispers and sucks Leo’s racing pulse point on his neck. He keeps his hands around Leo's wrists and presses them against mattress until he is sure that they will stay there. Leo whines low in his throat, but stays put.

“Good boy,” David purrs and sits up, looking down to memorize every curve and bone of Leo’s body. Leo blushes, but keeps stubbornly their eye contact, what David is happy for.

“Don’t prolong this too long,” he warns David, but it comes out as a whisper.

“Oh don't worry, I don’t,” David smiles and dips down to kiss the middle of Leo’s chest, just above his heart. He isn’t sure if he hears Leo’s heartbeat so loud or is it just his own pulse fluttering faint in his ears, “-just the necessary bit.”

He starts from Leo’s neck, kissing and biting, leaving small marks on his clavicle. His hands roam the pale skin, mouth following down his chest, stomach, all the way to his hips, pulling Leo’s boxers down just low enough to expose a bit of pubic hair. By that time Leo was breathing loudly through his mouth, knuckles white from gripping the sheets and David tried to smother off his smug smile before he sucked one dark hickey just above his hipbone. His short beard left a faint red scratch on the soft skin there.

“Oh fuck, come on David, _please_ ,” Leo gives in and bucks his hips up. David’s breath hitches, because that’s what he had been waiting for; that desperate, needy voice, because Leo sounded too hot when he is begging. He was thankful that he got it from Leo this quickly, because his own patience was running off fast, too. Guess two month long separation didn’t work for either of their self-control. Who was that idiot who said that if you starve yourself long enough, you can’t feel the hunger anymore? Stupid and false.

They fumble Leo’s boxers off and David got a tube of lube in his hands and three slick fingers in no time.

David has to bite down to his lower lip as he starts to open Leo up. Maybe he had almost forgotten how Leo looked like this; back arching, hips pushing back to his fingers, and string of breathy curses passing his lips. Or maybe every time was just as captivating. David’s other hand is lining Leo’s cock, but he doesn’t add pressure almost at all, what is driving Leo desperate, but God, David can’t help it. He likes way too much to see the younger man writhe.

Leo’s cheeks are flushed and he’s staring David with blown pupils as the older man adds the third finger, stretching him. David can tell from the way Leo’s breath catches in his throat that it burns a little; it was a while from their last time after all.

Leo closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them again, they have an intense burn of hunger in them that wasn’t there before. Maybe that’s why David isn’t surprised when Leo roughly pulls him down to a passionate kiss. When Leo’s nails scrape the skin on David’s neck, David thrusts his fingers in even harder and deeper, which makes Leo moaning against his lips.

David’s heart is racing when pulls out his fingers and lines himself up. He feels like he is trembling, even though he knows that he isn’t. Their lips brush, hot breaths mixing in the air.

“God, I’ve missed you so fucking much,” David whispers just before he slowly pushes in. Leo begins to say something too, but his words turn into gasp when David steadily buries himself all the way inside.

David realizes that his grip on Leo’s hips must be too strong, so he forces his fingers to loosen up, hoping that he didn’t leave any bruises. Okay, maybe he little hopes that he left. He wishes that he left enough marks on the cream white skin for Neymar to realize that he was lusting after taken man.

“Oh God,” Leo breaths and David takes that as a cue to go on. He starts out slow enough, but he knows that neither of them is going to last long. Leo feels too damn good around him, too tight and too hot.

David soon picks up the pace, savoring every moan that escapes between Leo’s lips. They’ve done this enough times for David to know exactly how to find the magical spot inside of Leo. So when he lifts Leo’s legs little up and tilts his own body just slightly, pushing even deeper it doesn't take a long when–

" _Fuck!_ "

-yeah. He got it. How Leo’s stomach goes tight and his eyes seem to visibly darken always manages to left David breathless. It’s fast, hard and blurry after that. They get lost in the sounds, skin slapping against skin, gasps and moans filling the air. Sweaty bodies slide against each others, hands little too rough, but neither of them minds.

And oh, how David loves the way Leo moans his name just before he comes, it's rolling off his tongue like a prayer. It drives David over the edge too, the feeling of Leo tightening around him as he comes, white spurts on his pale stomach. The orgasm hits David hard, leaving him overwhelmed and a little shaking, because fuck, that time was definitely in the top ten. He groans and drops his all weight on Leo, and for a minute the only sound is their harsh breathing. He feels like he weights nothing, although Leo might disagree with him.

After a while David lifts his head from the crook of Leo’s shoulder to kiss him – this time with love, not teeth. Hazy bliss is written all over Leo’s face when they part and David smiles because he feels euphoric too.

“ _Te extrañé_ ,” Leo says softly, “I missed you too, Guaje.”

 

 

When Leo winces as they clean up – sore as he must be – David feels a weird satisfaction spreading from his chest. It’s not that he wants Leo to hurt, no, _not ever_ , but thinking of Leo feeling him after the sex just does the thing for him.

They decide to watch TV for a moment and David doubts that they are going to sleep on the couch tonight. Leo is already asleep, breathing slow and steady against David’s collarbone as they lay there, curled on each others.

David is also drowsing off, but the sleep won’t just take over him. There are too many thoughts in his head and God knows why his short conversation with Neymar keeps coming in his mind. He tries to focus on the movie, but he can’t escape from his head. He wishes that he could delete that memory from his brain. Erase the picture of the Brazilian staring Leo like a world cup. Rip off the jealousy feeling that was eating him up from inside.

Eventually he is tired enough and shuts the TV, traces his lips along Leo’s hairline and hopes that the sleep isn’t too far away.


	3. The heart wants what the heart wants

This wasn't how Neymar had it planned. Not at all.

His intention in Barcelona had been simply to play. Play _faster_ , play _better_ , play until you've fucking won it all or until you've ran so much that your legs give up under you and your lungs can't draw a breath.

Simple, right?

Except it wasn't. It couldn't be more far from that.

Nobody had prepared Neymar for this. They had prepared him for injuries, for the bench, for critics – but no one warned him about this; it was something he couldn't foresee. His only and one love was supposed to be football. It's like Leo pulled the very solid earth from under his feet and wasn't even realizing how hard Neymar was falling.

Neymar can't remember when or how it happened? Leo had just slowly sneaked his way into his heart, growing roots deep in there. It had happened so inconspicuously that Neymar hadn't even realized how it was Leo’s face he searched after every time he scored; how it was Leo who he always told his stupid jokes just so he could see him smile.

It wasn't until Villa had popped up, staring Neymar like he had somehow personally offended him – only then he had realized how deep he was. He had honestly been surprised of the tight feeling on his chest, like someone had wrapped an iron wire around his ribcage.

And for fucks sake, he hadn't even known that Leo and Villa were together. Maybe the thought had flashed in his head a long ago when he had watched them play together, but he imagined that their thing would've been long gone, especially after Villa left. Relationships really weren't a hot topic in the dressing rooms, so he really had no idea. He had been curious about it before, but never had guts to ask it from Leo. He should have. Maybe that way he could had prevented this somehow. Steel his heart and not let the adorable Argentinian take it over.

So yeah, yesterday didn’t leave a good taste on his mouth even though they won the game, but the absolutely worst part of it was how freaking happy Leo had looked.

Neymar tries to recall a moment when he looks so happy when he sees him, but can’t find one. _You see him almost every day_ , he tries to comfort himself, _of course he’s joyful when he sees someone he haven’t seen in a long time_. Even that thought doesn't help him.

Neymar rubs his forehead, feeling irritated. It certainly wasn't his morning.

After a restless night of sleep, he had woke up to Dani's message of some silly picture of himself and his kid, asking if Neymar was up for something today. And that was okay, yeah, he and Dani were a lot together, but fuck, Dani had sent that at _8.10 am_ , on a _Sunday_ , when normal people slept to the midday. Neymar had rolled his eyes and turned to his other side, but damned as he was, he couldn't get any more sleep.

So after replying to Dani and getting up, his morning passed in a fog; he stands in the shower until the water turns cold, plays few races of some car game and just wanders around his house, feeling extremely stupid with himself.

It feels like doesn't really wake up until he sitting in at some fast food restaurant, Dani talking to him across the table. He doesn't know why he even ordered anything, he really isn't hungry, but he takes couple of fries from his plate anyway.

They talk; or mostly Dani talks and Neymar tries to be polite and even look like he is listening. Obviously he isn't doing so well with that.

"Jesus, you're grumpy. What’s with you today?" Dani asks him with a frown.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't be if _someone_ hadn't waked me up so damn early today," Neymar shots back matter-of-factly, but gives a small smirk to show that he is only teasing. Not that the older man would have taken it seriously; the bantering was normal between them.

Dani makes the same face as he does when his own daughter is cranky, and it somehow manages to annoy Neymar even more.

"It was after eight," Dani shrugs and snatches a few fries from Neymar’s plate since he already ate his own, "Where you at some party yesterday or what?" Neymar shakes his head and pushes the remains of his fries at Dani, offering him the rest. It's not that he was hungry anyway.

"So what keeps you up at the night, little bro?" Dani asks casually, but Neymar hears the hidden worry under the carefree tone. He parts his lips and is on the edge of pouring his heart to Dani, but stops before he even gets to begin. He knows how that conversation would end. Dani is like a brother to him, but no matter how much he cares for Neymar, he wouldn't be on his side with this. Besides Dani knows Villa, has played with him, so maybe it would be a little awkward.

"Oh, I don’t know," he finally sighs and leans back, "Too big and empty bed, I guess."

Dani's eyes lift up from the fries and he watches Neymar with a calculating expression what really unnerves him. Neymar fixes his gaze to his drink and notices that he is tapping his foot again – a nervous habit of his. He is almost ready to throw his coke at Dani to wash that look from his face, when the older man starts to rant him about paparazzi's if he intends to bring any strangers in his home.

"I know you're used to this shit Ney, but really, be careful. You don't want to end up in the cover of magazines." Neymar lifts one eyebrow. "Well not from _that_ , at least," Dani fixes and rolls his eyes.

Neymar doesn't answer. _Like it would be that easy_. Grab some faceless chick, get laid. He doubts that it would even satisfy him, probably just relax. He can’t fill the hole in his heart with callous sex. Hell, Neymar wouldn't have this problem at the first place if it was just another warm body he longed next to him.

Despite his exhaustion, Neymar feels restless. He hates how the world keeps going on when his own has stopped, stuck on last night when he saw Villa kiss Leo in the parking lot. Everybody’s too happy, the day is too bright and even the noise of Dani eating his fries annoys him to the core.

He wants to tell Dani to stop eating and be sad with him. Instead he just chews his straw and stays silent, because Dani doesn't know. He doesn't know about his pain, so Neymar can’t go off and ramble how the human heart works.

He isn't even sure if the ache on his chest means that his is weak or it works all too well.

 

+

 

A few days later, they have a Champions League game against PSG.

It’s going to be a difficult game, even though they have a home pitch advantage. Neymar sits surprisingly calmly, leaning back to his locker. He has already changed, watching the others to pull on their jerseys and tying shoelaces. He knew to expect that his gaze wanders off to Leo a way too many times for it to be normal. He could predict that, and he knows that he is weak, so he doesn't even work too much to hide it.

The dressing room is quiet, but there is that sparkling feeling that is always before the game. That charged moment, like calm before the storm and Neymar has always loved that feeling; it makes electricity run through his spine, fixing his senses to overdrive.

He watches carefully when Leo takes off his white t-shirt and grabs his jersey, quickly pulling it on. But not quick enough.

Neymar presses his nails hard against his skin and bites inside his cheek, because _fuck_ – it’s burned in the back of his brains now. The small, fading bruises on Leo’s hips and collarbone. Fading, yet still too dark against the pale skin.

He takes a deep breath, blows it out through his nose, and tries to focus on the upcoming game again, but it’s hard. Neymar doesn't even know why he is so shocked about it. It’s nothing abnormal, but still he wishes that he hadn't seen them. Now when he starts to think about it, he recalls that he has saw marks before. It’s been a while, a few months at least, but yes. Maybe they weren't so visible and dark before, but Neymar remembers.

His shoulders slump forward and he buries his face in his hands.

Soon there’s a warm hand on his shoulder and he hears Leo’s quiet voice, “Hey. You okay?”

 _No_ , Neymar thinks, but lifts his head and nods, giving a smile what probably isn't reassuring at all - but hey, it’s all he has to give right now.

Leo looks down at him, concern clear in his eyes and Neymar feels pleased by that in the corner of his heart. He takes what he can, sucking in every moment of attention that Leo has for him.

Leo looks him for a long moment with intense shadow in eyes, like he is trying to figure Neymar out. Eventually he draws his hand from Neymar’s shoulder. “Okay,” he says slowly, “Okay, come on…”

It helps a little when Neymar gets to the pitch; the green grass seems to live under his boots and the shouts of the crowd makes him run faster.

And he plays well – _no_ , he plays great, so it isn't wonder that his heart beats desperately against his ribs when the time slips away and they hadn't scored yet.

It was still 0-0 and only two minutes left. Two short minutes to make the goal.

He recognizes the same desperation in Pique’s face, whose eyes swiftly scan the whole pitch. Neymar takes a deep breath and thinks; _this is it_ , as the tall defender passes the ball to Busquets.

The ball moves quickly from player to player, until it finds its way to Neymar, who think _yes_ ; because he sees it. The weak point between two defenders. _The Achilles heel_. His muscles ache and his lungs burn, but his legs launch him to a sprint as he runs like his life would depend on it. He can almost see the goal in his eyes, when one PSG player suddenly appears next to him, almost taking off the ball.

Neymar stumbles a little, but keeps the ball and grits his teeth when other player comes on him too. They’re forcing him to retract to the corner. He sees Leo, running towards the goal and he really has to make his decision now. Time is running out. He kicks the ball and falls on the ground immediately after it, because PSG defender collides to him with a force.

 _Fuck_ , he thinks and maybe shouts it aloud, because he already knows the pass was too long.

It’s too long and he knows that they won’t get another change. He curses again and presses his forehead against the grass, trying to swallow the bitter taste down of his throat.

A second later Neymar thinks that the Camp Nou explodes, when all 90 000 people around him break into a shout. He lifts his head from the ground and can’t believe his eyes; _the ball is in the fucking goal_. It’s there, behind stunned goalkeeper and Leo is on the ground too, way over the line, and all Neymar manages to think is _how the fuck he did it?_

It’s still quite hard to believe it as he sees Leo running towards him, eyes sparkling and mouth curved into a smile. Neymar spreads his arms and wraps them around Leo, stumbling backwards when the Argentinian jumps against him. He squeezes Leo way too hard against his chest, but Leo’s arms are equally tight around his shoulder.

Their teammates are quickly around them too, and then it’s all blur of bodies and shouts. Neymar doesn't comprehend any of the words that are shouted to them, he just keeps his tight grip on Leo’s bicep and when the huddle around them abates, the Brazilian pulls him in his arms once more.

When they separate Neymar grabs a hold of Leo’s face and he doesn't even realize what he is saying, because Leo is smiling, way too close of his own face. Their noses brush and Neymar kisses Leo’s forehead before letting go.

The game continues maybe thirty seconds before the referee whistles the game over. Neymar doesn't remember when last time they had this sweet victory and his cheeks hurt from smiling, but he can’t really wipe it off.

He is midway walking to the dressing rooms when a hand grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him out off the corridor. He lets out a surprised noise when, he is dragged around the corner and pushed against the wall.

“Seriously, kid,” Villa’s voice is low and serious, “Back off.”

Neymar’s smile drops. Of course Villa was watching the game now when he was here. The temperature of the air suddenly seems to drop a degree. Neymar knows what the other man is talking about, but plays dumb anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man,” he says and tries to move away, but a strong hand on his shoulder stops him.

“You think I can’t see it?” Villa asks between his gritted teeth and invades Neymar’s personal space, “The way you look at him. How you are always fucking touching him.”

Neymar returns the stare, suddenly feeling rebellious. He had never been the one to pick a fight, but there’s a new kind of spark in his chest. _Why shouldn't he fight for something he wants?_

“Hey, it was just a game,” he still tries, because Villa is not joking and Neymar doesn't want their conversation to end with black eye. And it’s also a good point, he thinks, because the celebrations after the goals are always frantic and intimate.

But he can see that Villa doesn't buy it. It’s like a freaking staring contest after that, and _hell_ , Neymar isn't going to lose it, because he is sure that it would somehow prove his guilt. Even when he hasn't technically done anything wrong.

Finally Villa takes a step back and licks his lips. “Just back off,” he warns quietly and walks away.

As soon as Villa is out of the sight Neymar rams his head against the wall, cursing Villa for ruining his post-game euphoria again. But their interaction also sets a decision in his mind. He is a fucking fighter – he fights to the end of every game, so he will do that outside the pitch too. He swallows his defeat if he has to, but he is not going to down without a resistance. He will back down only if Leo tells him so.

After all, this isn't Villa’s decision. It’s Leo’s.


	4. When words fail

Leo knows that something is wrong as soon as he sees David.

He is waiting Leo with the car, leaning against it, hands deep in pockets. Leo asks about it, but David just smiles feebly and congratulates him of the goal. Leo takes a deep breath and bites his tongue; he wants to push it, but he knows that David can be stubborn as hell, so he leaves it. _Not now_ , he decides, _later._

David will tell him when he wants to. _If_ he wants to. Trying to force the words out of him would be a dead giveaway.

The ride home isn't too quiet, like Leo fears. David talks, so normally that anyone else probably wouldn't notice the hidden anxiety under the surface, but Leo hears it.

They make sandwiches with cheese, ham and tomato when they get home, and eat them in Leo’s kitchen while discussing about the game. After that they strip to take a shower. Leo has taken one after the game, but joins David anyway.

“I’m so proud of you,” is what David whispers against his mouth, when they are under a warm stream, wet bodies flush against each others.

It isn't until later that night – when Leo is straddling David on the couch, kissing him slowly – when he recognizes the look in David eyes. Because he has seen the same look in before; the same mix of despair and determination. Like Leo could somehow disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough. But it’s a long time since that. It was at the start of their relationship when everything was unsure and the feelings weren't said aloud yet.

Leo frowns and leans in so their foreheads are touching.

He has never been good with voicing his feelings and dearly hopes that it isn't about how much you say, but what you say. Because he doesn't have the words; he just feels them. He doesn't know how to say that he adores David above everything else; his contagious laugh, his determination, his passion. Everything from the very top of his head to the very tips of his toes.

He wants to tell how much he aches for David when he lies alone in his bed.

How it leaves him breathless whenever he sees David angry and bold. His white teeth bared, eyes light up with ferocity and knees raw from falling on the pitch – but getting up. Leo knows that he should love more the peaceful side of his, but there’s something captivating and beautiful in that spark David has, when he fights back to the world that tries to beat him down. Because footballers life isn't as easy as it may look.

He wants to say how much he loves the way David looks in the morning, naked from any products and layers, skin soft against the white cotton sheets. His soul laid bare for Leo. He wants to say that he had stripped his covers too; gave himself up and let David explore the depths of his mind and heart. Allowed him the power to destroy him. Leo wants say that he stands there too, only with his trust that David will not to break him.

He wants to say so much to David - say that he doesn't have to worry - but he doesn't have the right words within.

So instead of all that, Leo whispers "I love you David," his eyes dark and serious, hoping that David can get it all from that simple sentence, " _More than anything_."

David's shoulders relax visibly at that. Leo smiles and trails his hands down the older man sides, then pushing his shirt up. "Let me prove it to you."

"Oh Leo, you don't have to-" David starts quietly, but Leo rolls his eyes and stops him in the middle.

"Shut up. I want to," he mouths against David's neck until he moves down to kiss his stomach. "And I know you want it too," he teases and presses a palm against the bulge of David's pants. David groans quietly and lifts his hips, so Leo can pull his pants off.

He kisses down to the V oblique on David’s waist, teeth scraping just a little and has to admit that he is impressed how hard the other man already is. He licks a wet stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, before he takes the head between his lips. David’s breath hitches and his hands find their way to Leo’s soft hair. He runs his fingers through it before taking a strong grip of it.

Leo moans almost inaudibly and grinds his own growing arousal against the couch as he takes David deeper in his mouth, working his tongue around in a way he knows drives David insane. He gags a little when David’s hips push up and he has to place his hands on David to keep him from thrusting up.

It takes only a few minutes until David is on the edge. Leo speeds up, sucking harder, trying to push him over the edge.

"Leo..." David gasps and tugs his hair, “Leo…wait.”

Leo ignores him, breathing through his nose as he keeps going.

"No, stop. _Stop_. Come here," David finally breaths, tugging Leo's shirt harder to pull him up into a kiss. He only has a second to catch breath before his lips are occupied again, this time with David’s tongue in his mouth.

"Lube," David continues with a hoarse voice after they separate, "Go get the lube. I want to fuck you."

He frowns when Leo just shakes his head and pulls off his own shirt. Leo is not a masochist, no, but sometimes he wants the little burn. In times like this, when his words fail him, he wants to feel it more.

"No," David says, when he realizes what Leo means, “Leo, no. It’ll hurt.”

"I'm okay," Leo insists while wriggling off from his own pajama bottoms. He also tugs the corner of David's shirt, who takes the cue and pulls it off, “I can handle you,” he smiles.

David’s eyes darken with lust, when Leo takes two of David's finger in his mouth, sucking them with a same passion he sucked a cock just a minute before. And even though that David had stared him with a same intensity many times before, Leo feels his cheeks warm up. He empties his head and concentrates on wetting David’s fingers as much as possible.

The first finger slides in him easy enough, thanks for the sex they had in the morning. The seconds doesn't really hurt either, but David takes his time even thought he must be impatient already. The third burns a little, but David kisses him through it. His eyes are sharp for every sign of discomfort and Leo tries to cover every gasp, because he doesn't want David to think that he is made of glass.

Because sex isn't the way David can break him. Maybe only shatter him a little.

“I’m good. I’m ready,” Leo assures soon, proving his point by pushing back on the fingers. David kisses him hurriedly and Leo fixes his position – still straddling David who sits up to lean against the couch. The hands on his hips are firm, but they’re not pulling him down.

Leo takes a deep breath and tries to relax himself as much as he can when he lowers himself, feeling David’s cock slowly pushing inside. They both are careful; knowing that spit isn't a good substitute for a lube.

And when he is down, David buried inside him to the hilt, Leo slips out a moan, because it feels unbelievable good; the feeling like he is stretched to his limits. It burns, yes, but it’s not too much. He can take it.

“Leo. _Leo, look at me_.” Leo opens his eyes. He didn’t recall of closing them. “Keep eyes open, okay?” David asks hoarsely and Leo just nods, not trusting his own voice to be even enough.

David lets Leo to slowly fuck himself down on his cock a few times and getting used to the feeling, before taking a stronger grip of his hips and starting to push up. Leo doesn't mind. Their hips move in sync, Leo pressing himself down when David pushes up and soon they both get lost in the feeling. Leo hears David to breath out a quiet nonsense in the air, but he can’t comprehend any of it because it feels like David is everywhere. Hands around his hips and his lower back, mouth on his collarbone and cock so deep inside.

“David, please,” he hears his own voice. Something flicks in David’s eyes when he hears his own name and he pulls Leo roughly down. He goes even deeper than before, brushing the nerves inside Leo that has him moaning. The electricity starts from his lower stomach and makes his cock jerk, then goes through his entire body, leaving his skin in goosebumps.

“Oh  _fuck_ ,” Leo echoes David’s name like a mantra, pushing down again, seeking the fireworks again. And David definitely gives him what he wants.

Leo is about to complain when David pulls out and shoves Leo off him, but shuts his mouth when the older man pushes him down to lay on his back. The rough material of the couch scratches his skin, but he doesn't even notice, because David is on him again, pushing inside again. He wraps his legs around David’s hips to pull him closer. Deeper.

David groans and sets up a pace that leaves Leo gasping, brushing his prostate with almost every thrust as they fuck in the glow of TV. It feels so good that Leo feels almost bad when he comes, David’s hand stroking his cock.

He shudders when David comes too, only a few second after him, hips thrusting hard the last time.

They lay there in silence like they always do after, breathing heavily and waiting their wildly beating hearts to calm down.

“I love you,” Leo repeats quietly after a while, other hand on David’s hair, playing gently with the short cut. David’s thumbs are rubbing tiny circulars on his hips too. It’s calming feeling. Such a contrast against the ache in his lower back and ass. Well, he knew to expect it when he demanded to fuck without lube. He won’t complain about it, because he doesn't want to hear the famous ‘ _I told you so_ ’ from David.

“I love you too,” David says against his skin and Leo smiles, because he doesn't hear the tepid anxiety in his voice anymore.

Maybe Leo won’t need all the words.

Maybe his actions speak just as loud.


	5. Hearts are wild creatures

Leo wakes up to the quiet rustling.

He opens his eyes to see David only with his boxers, trying to find rest his clothes from the mess on the floor. He obviously didn’t find what he was looking for, because eventually he settles for pulling on a pair of Leo’s shorts and one of his white t-shirts.

Then his gaze sets on Leo again. There’s only a second of surprise on his face, before the smile forms on his lips.

“Hey,” he murmurs and sits down on the edge of bed, bending down to kiss Leo’s forehead.

“Hey,” Leo mumbles from under the covers. David looks down at him with such a devotion in his brown eyes that Leo has to stop and wonder what he had done right to deserve that.

“How long you've been awake?” David asks lowly, fingers finding their way to Leo’s soft hair, smoothing through it.

“A minute. Maybe two,” Leo yawns. He remembers that he was dreaming of something before waking up. The details were already fading from his mind, but he remembers that David had been there – and that’s more than enough to make a dream good. “You?”

“An hour or so,” David shrugs and continues to caress Leo’s hair and neck with warm hands. His fingers are gentle; shooting Leo slowly back to the dreamlike state. He feels secure. _Loved_. Not that he had ever felt unsafe, but now his bed feels more like a place to belong when he has David next to him. He is almost losing his touch to reality again, when David speaks up again.

“I like to watch you sleep,” he confesses, so quietly that Leo almost mistakes it for his own imagination. He cracks his heavy eyes open. It’s a delicate and serene moment, but Leo can’t resist the temptation.

“What a creep I've let into my house,” he jokes and David rolls his eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” David sighs and draws back,”For once I try to be romantic and you-“

“Romantic?” Leo interrupts, with a playful glint in his eyes, “I’d rather say eerie.”

He knows his mistake when David narrows his eyes; he doesn't have a change to get away before David snatches his cozy blankets off him and pins him to the mattress. There’s a rush of arousal and fear in his veins when David clasps hands firmly around his wrists and forces them next to him. Leo’s panicked laughter and pleads mix together when David attacks to his neck, beard tickling while the younger man tries to shove him off.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, okay?” Leo blabbers and squirms against David, not really knowing what he’s begging anymore. “Please, stop!”

He can feel David smiling against his neck. _What a bastard._ He almost hates how David knows the most sensitive places of his body. Teeth sink on the base of Leo’s neck, moving up to the vulnerable skin under his ear, making Leo shiver. David’s whole weight is on Leo now, pressing him down.

Leo doesn't know when it develops into that kind of touching, but soon enough he is gasping for an entirely different reason. David is still biting and nibbling his throat, but now his hips are moving too, pressing slowly down against Leo.

Leo pinches his mouth shut, trying to suppress every moan that attempts to pass his lips. He knows this game; they've played it before. The one where they pretend to be ignorant of their actions – as if they weren't both half hard already, grinding off against each others.

The rules were simple: you lose if you back off or come. It was truly frustrating, yet very arousing game. Leo can’t remember how it began. It was only few times they've even played it, but it was most usual after some kind of argument. Guess it was a game of dominance – and which of them had more self control.

Leo bit his lip hard enough to draw a little blood and closes his eyes. He feels like he is losing it. Doesn't have much to play back with. Then he realizes to parts his legs enough to wrap them around David’s waist, and grind up against him. He is satisfied to hear other man’s breath hitch against his neck. After that David’s hands leave his wrists, pulling Leo against to meet his own roll of hips and Leo hates the tiny sound that escapes from his throat.

Suddenly David stops. His hands move to Leo’s wrists again, and he lifts himself up enough so their bodies aren't touching. Leo tries not to squirm when he feels hot breath on his ear.

“This _creep_ , “David prolongs the word, “-will now go to _your_ kitchen and make breakfast, while wearing _your_ clothes.” He smirks and lifts himself off. It takes a few second for Leo to catch his breath and bring together his confused mind. He wants t wipe off David’s smug smile and pull him back to the bed. He doesn't feel like a winner at all. This isn't how their game usually ends.

He sits up and they stare each others for a moment, breathing heavily. Leo knows that David is waiting for him to beg, so he doesn't say anything. No, he’ll not give David that satisfaction. Just because Leo doesn't desire so much control, didn't mean he will surrender like that. He got his greed for victory, maybe not as intense as on the pitch, but still.

He can’t give in. It’s not in his blood.

“There are eggs in the fridge,” Leo says with a raspy voice and licks his lips. _Two can play this game._

“Okay…” David says after a while, “So, do you want an omelet?” He tries to act casually and Leo plays along.

“Yeah, sure.”

David nods slowly, probably still waiting for Leo to give up. Leo stares stubbornly back until David finally smiles and shakes his head, muttering something incoherent while walking away.

When he is off the room Leo falls back on the bed again. _Fuck David_ , he thinks, _and his teasing_. Well, at least he didn’t lose. Although he’s got a feeling that he didn’t quite win either.

He dresses up slowly, trying not to bend too much because he’s still a little sore from yesterday. Maybe he should had considered that lube twice. It was both curse and blessing that he gets so exhilarated sometimes that he forgets the pain. In the pitch he runs until his legs are full of bruises, only to notice how painful it’s to walk after the game. Or he wakes up in a morning like this, realizing that it wasn't exactly gentle sex last night.

He taps to the downstairs after brushing his teeth and finds David around the stove. There’s a delicious aroma of spices in the sunny kitchen. Leo tucks himself on the chair and pours himself some water from the can.

“Sorry that you couldn't sleep any longer,” David apologizes while facing the pan. Leo glances at the clock. 8.12 am.

“It’s okay,” Leo assures, “I don’t want to spend my time with sleeping now when you’re here.” _You’re much better in real than in my dreams anyway_. He looks the perfect ratio of David’s shoulder to his waist and bites inside his cheek, bracing himself to say the question he has to ask eventually. Nowadays he lingers it just further and further away. He doesn't want to think about the time – not when he has David, so solid and warm next to him. Not that cold picture in that little Skype box.

“So, how long are you staying?” he speaks up, quietly. He doesn't want to hear the answer, but he has to know.

David peeks over his shoulder and smiles, as if he had been waiting for Leo to ask that.

“Ah, let’s see… “ He pretends to think, smile playing on his lips, “29 days, if we are precise.” Leo spurts a portion of his water to his shirt. He must have been a sight because David laughs and almost drops the spatula. For a second Leo can’t get a word out of his mouth, just stares with wide eyes.

“What? Are you really-? You’re staying _a month_  ? Here? With me?” he finally gets his voice back, searching for any kind of lie or joke in David’s eyes, but finds none. “You are not joking, aren't you?”

“Well, I've made a little arrangements,” David smiles and sets the omelets on two white plates, “And my knee isn't wholly okay, so I take this as a recovery,” he continues with a lower voice.

 _A recovery._ Leo frowns.

“Is it bad?” he asks; enthusiasm already fading off and worry settling in, “And don’t you have to see a physiotherapist or something?” He didn’t notice any discomfort or David to be more careful with his leg.

“No, don’t worry,” David waves it off, already eating his eggs, “I just have to be little more careful and not to strain it. Doctor gave me three weeks off, so no games in a while.” Leo hears a quiet frustration in his voice and understands it completely. He knows what it is to be injured.

He wants to comfort David, but knows that he can't do or  say anything to make it better. Injuries are probably the most awful part of their profession. They were frustrating and painful and there was literally nothing you can do to prevent them. They happen if they happen. He is happy that he has David for himself for a whole month, but he never wanted it to be because of an injury.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

David’s features soften when he lifts his eyes to meet Leo’s. “Yeah, it sucks,” he admits, “-but you make it much more tolerable.”

 

+

 

So it’s once a week when David has to fly to see his physiotherapist, which, Leo thinks, it’s extremely stupid, because there is very capable ones in Barcelona too. But he won’t complain. It’s only one day of seven. He’s managed to survive months with only phone and Skype – one day is small to that.

They snuggle on the couch, watching comedy series before it’s midday and Leo has to go for the training. He kisses David before he is off the door, training bag on his shoulder.

Practices go well; Leo feels focused and the ball is very much his friend. Xavi and Pique ask him about Guaje and he still gets praises from the goal in last game. Leo is a little disappointed when the trainings end; he still has so much energy, he feels like running at a long deserted beach or playing an entirely match.

“So, its a few days off now,” Neymar says when they’re walking to their cars, “Have any plans?”

Leo shrugs, wriggling his keys in his hands. "Uh, tomorrow David and I are probably going to eat somewhere. And Thursday? I don't know; I'm probably home, killing Fifa."

Neymar looks him under his long lashes, licking his lower lip. "Alone?" There's something in his voice what Leo doesn't recognize. He looks Neymar for a long second before nodding. Yes. Thursday David had to go to see his physiotherapist and Leo hadn't actually planned anything there.

"I don't have anything on that day either," Neymar says casually, but every word clearly calculated.

Leo lifts one brow, smile tugging his lips, “Okay. Should I take that as an invitation?”

The Brazilian smiles brightly at him and Leo wonders where this kid gets his alacrity. It seems like it never gets off. “Yeah – you should. My house is too empty and big for me alone. I wouldn't mind some company.”

“Okay then,” Leo smiles, “Thursday it is.”

Neymar breaks to even wider grin, "Great!”

Leo opens the car door, "Do I need to bring something?”

“Just yourself,” Neymar waves off while walking towards his car.

 

+

 

When Leo gets home, David had made some chicken and rice, what Leo practically hogs in. He hadn't realized how hungry the practice session had made him. For a dessert they have ice-cream; three different flavors, because David couldn't decide.

Leo sits on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs as he eats his vanilla ice-cream, “Xavi was on my neck today,” he says and licks his spoon, “He asked me why you haven’t called.”

“Really?” David asks, sarcastically, “Well, say him that he’s got a phone too. And my number!” He sounds more amused than pissed.

“Oh, don’t be like that. They miss you,” Leo says and leans downwards to kiss David. His kisses taste like caramel, mixing to Leo's own vanilla. Their lips are cold, but tongues hot.

“Yeah, I miss them too,” David says after he pulls off, biting Leo’s lip for a last time. “So, do you have practices at Thursday?”

“No. Actually Ney called me over,” Leo says, scooping rest of his ice-cream in his spoon. David tenses next to him and Leo’s eyes draw to David, ice-cream fast forgotten.

“What?” Leo asks, anxiety growing inside of his chest, “What is it?” 

David lowers his gaze to the ice-cream again and twirls his spoon around. It’s the same look again, Leo thinks, and then the realization hits him. Same look as few days ago, except now Leo knows the source of it.

"It's about _him_?” Leo asks; voice just above whisper, “Isn't it?” David just stares down at his hands and Leo takes the silence as a confirmation. He hops off the counter and throws his bowl to the sink harder than he intends to.

"What is this thing? Don't you trust me?" he asks, offended that David even doubts him. Haven’t he prove his love and loyalty enough times for David to believe in him. His chest feels tight and he takes a quivering breath through his mouth, "Do you think that I go around screwing every new teammate?"

"No, no, no," David runs hands through his hair and stands up too, "No, of course I trust you," He says desperately and steps to Leo, framing his face with his hands.

"Then what?" Leo demands. His eyes are wide, glistening with affliction and hurt.

David swallows thickly and moves his other hand to Leo’s shoulder, "It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I don't trust him,” he finally says. Leo narrows his eyes, looking skeptical.

"David, what..?"

"He likes you," David blurts out, frenzy in his eyes. Leo takes a step back, shaking his head. David has always been possessive, but he had never got this jealous. And for a so stupid reason, because David is definitely wrong; Neymar has never been interested in him, other than professional and friendly mind. Surely Leo would had noticed of he had.

"We're teammates,” Leo defends, “He should. I like him too."

David sighs and looks at him like obstinate child, who doesn't believe that the candy case is empty already. He doesn't say it, but Leo can see it in his expression. _How can you be so naïve?_ " He likes you a way more than he should,” David says lowly.

"No, he doesn't,” Leo argues stubbornly, “He is my friend, that’s it."

David takes a step closer, but the younger man backs up, “And let’s say that if he did indeed like me?” Leo says, “You still wouldn't trust me to be around him, huh?”

David bites his lip, hand still extended for Leo before it falls to his side again, “I’m sorry,” David swallows thickly, “Sorry, it came out wrong. I just…” he stops in middle sentence, taking a deep breath. Suddenly something changes in David’s eyes. The remains of his mask falls off, leaving pure vulnerability and fear for Leo to see.

“I don’t want to lose you,” David whispers, like a secret. Like a weakness he didn’t want to admit. Leo feels the knot in his chest loosen as his anger washes away, feeling suddenly guilty of his outburst. It hurts him to see David like that; so unsure of his place in Leo’s life.

He steps closer to pull David into a gentle kiss and tries to pour all his love into it.

“Stupid,” he whispers after they separate, “Why would you even think like that?”

David wraps his arms around Leo’s waist and pulls him flush against himself, burying his face in Leo’s neck. They hug like that for a long minute, neither of them wanting to let go.

“I love you, David,” Leo whispers, hoping that can assure the older man “You won’t lose me, I promise.”


	6. Greatest risk and greatest reward pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and writing such a lovely comments, you have no idea how much I love you, guys ♥

Neymar swings down his third shot and shivers as it burns down to his throat.

They are sitting in Neymar’s kitchen, side by side, radio playing quietly in the background. They have a cocktail ingredients splayed in front of them and Neymar’s fingers are still little sticky from slicing lemons. He had tried to make Leo a margarita, what wasn't very successful – _this is why he is footballer and not bartender_. Leo told him that it wasn't that bad, but he still had more than half left, so Neymar doesn't really believe him.

It’s nice and relaxed and there's a new kind of feeling in Neymar’s chest, making him feel light, energized. He's almost floating in it. It swirls and mixes with the sharp burn of alcohol in his stomach. _Hope_ , Neymar suddenly realizes. He's feeling hopeful.

Because why not? He has a change. He and Leo get along so well, they are a great pair, on the pitch and out of it. Everything is so easy with Leo. It’s easy to be around him, easy to talk to him, easy to laugh with him. They are so different, and yet they make it work amazingly.

Neymar watches their hands on the table, fingers almost touching – the contrast of their skins is thrilling. Neymar wants too badly to see his own hands against Leo's so pale skin.

His eyes slowly draw back to Leo's, who blinks slowly and licks his lips. God, his eyes are so dark. Dark, just like his hair, standing out of his white skin, cheeks only having a little color from laughing and the alcohol.

"What?" Leo says quietly, finger reflexively tracing the rim of his glass. Neymar shakes his head a bit, trying to gain his composure again. Why the hell is he like this; it was only his third shot, he's not really even drunk yet. Although he feels like he is. Maybe he is drunk of Leo's presence. Of those intense black eyes and the lashes that brush Leo's cheekbones as he blinks.

“Nothing,” Neymar smiles and eats one slice of lemon, “Hey, do you want to have a rematch today?” he asks, referring to the Fifa. “I've been practicing.”

Leo is still midway through with his first drink. He shrugs, playful smile on his lips, “Sure. If you’re eager to lose again, why not.”

“Oh, _wow_! You really don’t doubt yourself.”

“Not with this,” Leo smiles brightly.

That’s the moment when Leo’s phone starts to buzz and shake against the dark wooden table. They both look it for a second before Leo picks it up.

"Sorry, I have to take this one," he apologizes, gulps quickly down the rest of his drink and pushes the chair from the table and stands up, placing his phone to his ear. Neymar watches his back as he walks away. He has no intend to eavesdrop, but he can't help but hearing Leo's quiet words.

"Hey," Leo mumbles softly to the speaker, "Uh-huh... So when is your flight leaving tomorrow?"

Neymar takes the bottle in his hands, but stops himself when he is about to pour himself his fourth drink. Maybe he should slow down. A few to calm down the nerves, but not so much that he is puking his guts out tomorrow. And definitely not so much that Leo thinks that anything what happens tonight will be just alcohol speaking. _If anything happens tonight_ , Neymar reminds himself. He has no further intends, no detailed plan to get into Leo’s pants, no. He lets things happen on their own weight.

Leo's fingers play with the fabric of his shirt. He frowns at something and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and Neymar wonders who he is speaking with. "It's okay, really, I-" Leo begins in hushed tone, but is cut off. "He doesn't-"

Neymar watches Leo's frustrated and a little pained expression. He wants to rip the phone off him, throw it somewhere far away, and make him smile again.

"We talked about this, I thought you knew..." Neymar barely catches his quiet mumble. "David, please, trust me on this." Neymar’s heart sinks. _David_. Of course. He bites his lips and can't help of feeling a little smug that their conversation isn't sounding so happy.

"Okay, good," Leo rubs his chin, sounding still tight, but somewhat relieved, "Yeah. I love you too. Okay... Bye."

Their call ends, and Neymar hurriedly takes the bottle in his hands and pretends to be reading the label of it. Thought if Leo had wanted more privacy he would have left the room.

"Sorry," Leo says and sits back again.

"Yeah, no need to apologize," Neymar smiles, hoping that somewhat comforting manner. "Everything okay?" he asks, even thought he isn't sure that he wants to hear it. He is selfish, he knows that. He wants to help Leo, be the person he can open up to, but he doesn't want to hear Leo to say Villa’s name ever again, if possible.

Leo runs a hand through his hair, doesn't look Neymar in the eye, "Yeah. Just some...uh, disagreement."

"You can tell me. I mean, if you want to," Neymar says quietly. Leo smiles at him, but it's a little too forced. Little too melancholy.

"It's just-" Leo begins, trying to find the right words. "David just, he thinks that...uh. _Never mind_ , just give me another drink," he decides in the middle, giving his glass over.

Neymar pours him a shot and Leo downs it quickly. And then another. And another.

Neymar faintly remembers that Leo once told him, how bad he was with liquid. How fast it rose to his head. And Neymar can already see how his eyes become a little drowsy, hazy with the alcohol. His hair is mussed as he frequently runs his hand through it, shoulders hunched.

He looks emotionally vulnerable – a state what Neymar has never seen Leo in before. Sad and crushed, angry even, but not like this. Neymar wants to punch Villa for making Leo look like that.

He has also never seen the Argentinean trying to help himself with alcohol. _Not Leo_. So composed and calm. Stable and focused. Barcelona's golden boy. He still laughs at the jokes Neymar makes and talks back to him, but Neymar can see that something is broken. Shattered. No, not everything is alright, Neymar can tell it.

 _Don't drown your bad feeling on the drinks_ , Neymar wants to say, _drown it on me. I'm here. I think I maybe love you. I'm actually pretty sure that I love you._  

But he doesn't say any of that aloud.

Time passes quickly and soon they're downed too much of the big bottle of strong gin. That's when Neymar gets his idea.

"Let's go to swim!"

Leo blinks a few times and squints his eyes, as if trying to figure out what Neymar has just said.

"No," he finally says, "No, we can't, Ney. It's more than five miles to the beach and either of us can drive now." He talks slower than usually, alcohol probably numbing his tongue.

"No, stupid," Neymar laughs and gets up, "I've got a pool, remember? At the backyard," he says and pulls Leo up then tugging him along by his wrist.

"Oh. Right." Leo comes obediently along when Neymar guides them out from the glass doors, to the backyard where the pool glistens in the light of moon. It's a beautiful night. Moon is bright and the stars are visible. Perfect night for the swimming.

Neymar pulls of his shirt and starts to work on his shorts. He has never been really one to shy out, and it's not that they haven't seen each other’s naked on the showers after the games. And they will not even be naked – boxers are good for swimming too.

Leo, however, worries his lower lip and frowns at the water. "I don't know," he says slowly, "I don't even have a swimsuit."

Neymar puffs out a breath, "You have boxers," he says and begins to tug Leo's shirt off. _God_ , he really must be drunk. He would never, _ever_ , in his dear life dare to try to undress Leo like that if he was sober. Luckily, Leo goes along and lifts his hands so Neymar to take of his shirt.

"It's cold," Leo tries again, when Neymar works the buttons of his shorts.

"No it’s not. It's summer," Neymar smiles and lifts his eyes to meet Leo's when he is ready, letting Leo's shorts to fall around his ankles. "You have to make better excuses if you want to back out of this."

They stand on the end of the pool just in their boxers, shoulders and hands touching, looking down at the blue water. It isn't even cold. A warm breeze of wind blows against their heated skins and Neymar really wants to jump already. Feel the cool water around his overheated body.

"Ready?" he asks, turning his face to Leo.

"No, not really," Leo mumbles. "Can I have a moment to think more excuses?"

Neymar laughs, showing the perfect line of white teeth, "No, you can’t. On the three, okay?"

Their eyes lock for a moment.

"One," Neymar says quietly.

"Two." Their eyes move to the pool.

" _Three!_ "

Neymar collides against the surface and the cool water sobers him up, but just for a second. It takes a moment to figure it out which way is up and which down and when his head finally breaks the surface, his head starts to spin again. He takes a deep breath and swipes his wet hair back before opening his eyes.

"Hey!" he shouts when he sees Leo, still standing on the edge of the pool, body trembling with the silent laughter. He swims closer and Leo takes a various step back, still laughing.

"I told you I wasn't ready," he laughs. Neymar rolls his eyes and extends his hand for Leo.

"Fine, fine. You win. At least help me out.”

Leo comes closer and gives out his hand, legs little apart, ready to pull Neymar up. His yelp is cut off when he hits the water too, Neymar pulling him down with a firm pull of hand. He coughs when he gets his head up again and now it’s Neymar's turn to laugh from the bottom of his heart.

“Oh, where did your laugh go now?” he sniggers and Leo splashes water at him. He mutters something under his breath, but Neymar can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Leo starts to swim to the stairs, but Neymar’s arms stop him, curling around his waist and pulling him back to the center of the pool.

“I meant swimming, not dipping in so fast you barely get wet,” Ney tells him and Leo throws him a look over his shoulder.

“I am wet! And cold,” Leo whines, _actually whines_ , and Neymar has to swallow to moisture his suddenly dry throat.

“You have to move to warm up,” Neymar instructs him, hands still firm around Leo.

“Okay, let go of me, then," Leo quirks back, challenging. 

Neymar squints his eyes, but let’s go of Leo’s hips. Leo looks at him innocently - too innocently - and swims forwards a few meters. Neymar’s watches Leo to float around for a while, before Leo takes a try for the stairs.

“Hey, wait!” Neymar shouts. He gets the hold of Leo’s leg before he can get up, alcohol slowing his movements. Neymar pulls him back.

They struggle in the water, before Neymar manages to pin Leo against the edge of the pool. It's deep enough so either of them can reach the bottom, so their legs tangle together, chest pressed together. When they finally tire out, Neymar lets his head rest on Leo’s shoulder.

“I blame you if I drown,” Leo whispers, little breathy, hand fisting Neymar’s hair.

“No, you won’t,” Neymar smiles against the skin under his lips.

“Yes, I will. And I will come back and haunt your sorry ass,” Leo’s threat falls out flat and Neymar pulls his head back, giving a quirk of smile. It, however, quickly freezes on his lips. Maybe the shots had slowed his reactions and maybe his mind too, because it seems that he only now realizes how flushed together they are. Leo looks back at him with dark eyes, illuminated by the pool, façade unreadable as often.

And if thinking afterwards, maybe Neymar should have thought it through, but doesn't; so he presses his lips against Leo’s.

His mind is blank. Completely and utterly blank of any rational thought, just the feeling of Leo’s lips against his, the feel of his skin under his fingertips and Neymar is glad that there’s cool water around them, because he’s sure that otherwise he would burst into flames.

Leo takes a sharp inhale, fingers tightening on Neymar’s bicep. Their kiss lasts a whole infinity, but same time it’s over way too quickly when Leo pushes him away. Neymar heart sinks and he tries to swallow the disappointment that tastes bitter in his mouth.

Leo’s eyes are wide and it might be alcohol, but he seems a little unsatisfied and disappointed, too.

“Ney,” he whispers, swallowing quickly, “Ney, I can’t…”

Neymar lowers his eyes, biting his lower lip so hard that he can taste metallic taste of blood in his mouth, “Don’t,” he croaks out. He doesn't even know what he is asking for. Please, _don’t leave_. _Don’t stop_. _Don’t say that you love him more_.

“I’m so sorry, Ney,” Leo says, sounding desperate, “Please, look at me...” But Neymar can’t. He can’t look Leo in the eye and hear why they can’t be nothing more.

Leo sighs, “Please… You know that I and David-“

Neymar blames the alcohol when he kisses Leo again, this time to merely shut him up, because he doesn't want to hear a word of Villa, not now, when he has Leo under his hands – so soft and firm. Real, not hazy and dreamlike; not a decoration of his own mind – because this time he isn't going wake up in the morning to find an empty bed, only to realize that the Leo under his hands was nothing but the cruel joke of his brains.

And this time, for Neymar huge shock, Leo kisses him back.

Leo’s hand find back to Neymar’s neck, legs wrapping around Brazilian’s waist to pull him closer. Neymar’s hands roam Leo’s sides and waist, trying to get him closer, even though they are already skin against skin. But he wants closer. He wants to have Leo under him, around him.

“Leo,” Neymar breathes out his name, before Leo parts his lips and their mouth are together again, this time with slick tongues colliding.

It feels so different for Neymar's earlier experiences. There is no soft flesh and curves, but hard, lean muscles and pointy bones against him. Still Leo fits under his hands just perfectly. He tastes like margarita and shots; familiar, yet so new and exhilarating.

Neymar breaks the kiss and his lips get to the line of Leo’s neck, then moving lower to lick the hollow of his throat. Leo makes a low voice in the back of his throat, bending his head backwards to explode his neck more and Neymar just can’t turn down such a blatant invitation. He licks and sucks the tender skin, leaving small marks, barely visible. They are both hard by now against each others, breathing heavily.

Neymar starts to thrust his hips slowly against Leo, who starts to match his movement. Neymar can’t keep the quiet moan in his mouth, but apparently neither can Leo. The small voices are something that Neymar has never heard before from the Argentinean. Breathy and intimate. Higher than his usual voice.

Neymar feels high.

He actually can’t believe he is there – no, _that Leo is there_. A small part of his brain still fears that he is going to suddenly wake up, find and empty bed and hard on.

“Let’s get inside,” he whispers against Leo’s lips.

Leo nods.


	7. Greatest risk and greatest reward pt. II

Neymar only realizes how drunk they both are when they get off the pool.

It's a miracle that they even manage to get inside without any major injuries, lips glued together as they stumble through the doors. Neymar winces when Leo's back roughly hits the wall, but the Argentinean doesn't seem to mind, just pulls Neymar closer again. They almost fall a couple of times, until they make their way somehow to the bedroom.

Leo’s knees stomp to the edge of bed and their way halts there, Leo falling on his back to the sheets.

For a split seconds, Neymar thinks that how are they’re gonna do this? What does Leo want? Does he want to be top or a bottom? Does he like it slow or hard? Neymar doesn't really care which way – as long as he gets Leo as close as possible.

Leo breathes heavily through his parted lips and Neymar is suddenly aware that he is staring. Staring at the dark eyes that look up to him with an expression he can’t read. Leo’s toes brush the carpet and Neymar moves, before Leo gets to reconsider anything.

He straddles Leo by the waist, letting his hands wander and explore. In the movement everything seems more hazy and uncoordinated, soft voices and colors mixing together. His hands are probably little too rough, but Leo doesn’t seem to mind, at least judging from the small voices he makes. Their kiss is sloppy and wet and Neymar really, really can’t function anymore.

Leo wriggles away from Neymar’s touch, pushing himself backwards to the bed. Neymar lifts himself off so Leo can get himself on the mattress properly. He, however, can’t stay off long. Or almost not at all. He is on Leo again in a blurred second, scraping his teeth along the pale neck, and Leo makes just too sweet noises under him. Neymar is almost painfully hard by now, so when Leo bucks up he presses gladly down, giving the pressure that both of them needs. His wet boxers are glued to his skin, but he barely notices.

Leo’s hands travel on his skin too, and it feels like his fingers are leaving a fire everywhere they touch, fingerprints burning to his skin. It’s a slow rhythm they grind against each other. Even a bit too slow, but Neymar goes along with it. It’s torturous, but same time so unbelievable good.

He presses his nose to the crook of Leo’s head, but his head starts to spin as soon as he closes his eyes. He opens them and pulls back just enough to claims Leo’s mouth again. Leo kisses back just as eagerly, opening his mouth for their tongues to meet. Neymar groans quietly at the kiss, then takes a firmer grip of Leo’s hips and grinds down harder.

Leo gives out a sharp gasp and spreads his legs just slightly – Neymar thinks he gets the hint.

He nudges Leo’s knees further apart and settles between them, still half laying on the Argentinean.

Maybe it’s their new position or the way Leo whispers his name against his lips, but suddenly Neymar feels nervous. Insecure. No matter how natural this feels with Leo, he doesn’t have any experience. _At all_. If some fumbling teenager experiments doesn’t count – and they don’t.

He does know how to have sex, yes; of course, he’s had plenty of it. But just with women. Neymar is not stupid, he knows where everything goes and that they need time and a condom and lube –probably lot of that. But the problem is that this is serious. This isn't some pretty bloke to try out new things with, this is _Leo_. And on top of that, this is Leo who has had plenty of sex with men (more accurately with Villa), and does know how a great sex feels.

And Neymar wants to be great. He wants that now more than anything.

On the other hand it would've been easier if Leo would top. Then Neymar wouldn’t have to deal with these thoughts, only the freak-out of being fucked. But if he would let somebody fuck him, it would be Leo.

But he doesn’t mind with this position either. It’s a thrilling sight, to see Leo under him like that.

Neymar pushes his insecure thoughts to the back of his hazy brains and sucks Leo’s collarbone. He faintly realizes that they are still dribbling wet, wetting the sheets, but it's hard to care about such a meaningless things right now. A fucking nuclear bomb couldn't make him stop now. He slips his fingers under the waistband of Leo’s boxers and gives them a tug.

That breaks the spell.

"Wait…” It’s Leo’s voice, breathy and quiet and it takes a moment for Neymar to realize that he is saying something, “No, wait – wait. Stop."

Neymar’s heart clenches painfully.

No.

_No no no no._

They can’t stop _now_.

He swallows and lifts up just so he can see Leo’s face. He looks like he has just realized where he is, like he has woken up in some strangers couch after a wild night in bar, thinking that this isn't place he belongs.

_You could. You could belong here._

Leo looks up to Neymar with a wide eyes, chest rising and falling fast, but this time not because the intensity of their kiss. He looks like he is having some sort of mental battle in his head, eyes shining with conflicted emotions.

Maybe that’s a good thing, Neymar thinks and tries to calm his wildly beating heart with a sheer willpower. Maybe it’s good, because at least Leo hasn’t pushed him away yet, that has to mean something. Right?

“I- You’re not-,” Leo says with a shaky voice, obviously not sure what to say. The blur in his gaze has Neymar wondering that how drunk he actually is. “I can’t do this...”

Neymar closes his eyes and kisses Leo softly. Leo’s tenses for a brief second, before kissing back. Maybe he is just unsure. Maybe he just needs some persuading and coaxing.

Neymar knows that it’s fucked up thinking, but Leo doesn’t stop him. He could, if he wanted. No matter that he is small; he still has more muscles than Neymar. He could push Neymar off or twist his head away or just scream him to stop.

But Leo doesn’t do any of that.

No. He kisses back.

So Neymar doesn’t stop.

They kiss until their lips are sore and Neymar has been hard a way too long. When they finally part he tugs Leo’s boxers away all the way and does same with his own too. It’s almost funny how pale a people can be. Because obviously the pasty skin of Leo’s arms and chest is tanned, because the skin under his boxers is even whiter and Neymar can’t think anything else than how well his hickeys would stand up to it.

He is extremely happy that he has condoms and lube on his nightstand and not anywhere further.

The insecurity is back when he pushes one lube covered finger inside Leo. He tries to keep his hands from shaking and is glad that Leo so quickly responses, moving his hips down. He seems a little impatient, so Neymar quickly adds the second one, wondering how the hell it would ever been comfortable, not even speaking of pleasurable.

But obviously it is, because Leo writhes on the sheets and lets out little throaty moans every well angled thrust. Neymar tries to swallow, but his throat seems like a sand paper. Okay, perhaps he is doing well.

"More," Leo whispers in his ear, halting Ney on his track. _More?_ Jesus, this man is greedy, wasn't two enough. But he pulls off his fingers, only to push back with three. It was a little weird angle as Neymar is still almost laying on top of Leo.

God, he can’t do this a much longer, he needs some friction; he needs a release. That is the time Leo sneaks one hand between them, taking a firm grip of Ney's cock and Ney can’t keep the moan in. He bites his lip and pushes to the slick grip of Leo’s hand. Leo works his hand so well, jerking him with sure moves. He will not last long. Not like this. He tries to keep the rhythm with his fingers, but it was hard to focus. Extremely hard with alcohol in his veins and Leo breathing encouraging words in his ears while jerking him off. But he tries.

He doesn't want to come just yet, wants to prolong this a little more, but Leo seems to have other plans. His hand works even faster and Ney can't help but thrust his hips forward. Leo wraps his legs loosely around him, and it's a bit awkward position, but they manage to make it work.

And soon Neymar loses it with a moan, coming on Leo's pale stomach as everything goes white for a second. When he manages to breathe again, he feels dizzy, as if he was coming down from a strong high. His body doesn't feel his.

He draws oxygen in his lungs and tries not to collapse. His other arm trembles slightly for having to take his weight for so long.

As soon as his ecstatic state fades, he gathers himself and kisses Leo deeply, thrusting his fingers deeper. Leo tenses visibly and gasps. Ney smiles against his lips when Leo rolls his hips down, asking more. He is getting a grasp of this, yeah.

Leo is tight around his fingers, but Neymar manages to bend them and thrust them even deeper. Leo's groans, other hand is grasping the sheets and other tightening around Ney's free arm, nails digging into the skin. Leo’s breath becomes ragged and Neymar can tell that he is close. Leo’s hand closes around his own cock now and Neymar wants to do that, but he only has so many hands. Instead he kisses Leo and tries to steal every moan Leo lets out.

He can’t say that he isn't little disappointed that they didn’t go all the way, but hey, he isn't complaining. Not at all.

He fucks Leo even harder with his fingers, until Leo breaks the kiss by jerking his head to the side and his body goes rigid. He arches his back and his legs tense around Neymar's waist, as the Brazilian drops lazy kisses on the side of his head. Leo’s eyes are shut and he comes apart, moaning his name so desperately that Neymar thinks he is going to black out.

Except it’s not his name.

" _David!_ "

That's when the world comes crashing down.


	8. Mistakes we make

This is it.

This is the end.

_Am I dying?_

Leo cracks his eyes open, feeling the bed swing dangerously under him. His tongue feels thick and the taste in his mouth is sour with a hint of bad alcohol. It feels like a truck had driven over him. He can’t remember that he’s ever had this bad hangover. The sheets are warm and sticky and the sunlight is blinding; pouring through the thin curtains. Curtains that aren't his?

Leo frowns, but it only increases his headache, so he closes his eyes again. His whole skull behind his eyes is aching, like someone is banging it with an iron hammer. It takes a minute until the wave of nausea passes and he can open his eyes again and he manages to tentatively sit up to the edge of the bed. He intends to draw sheets to cover his bare body, but all the sheets are under Neymar, who is sleeping on his stomach on the other side of the bed.

 _Oh God._ Ney.

The Brazilian is wrapped in the sheets, and Leo badly fears that he has no clothes under the covers either. A crippling anxiety weights down his heart.

 _This can’t be real._ It can’t be. He must be still sleeping on his own bed and when he wakes up, he is going to find David next to him. Yes. That has to be it.

But it’s not a dream.

He finds his boxers from the floor and pulls them on, wondering where the rest of his clothes are. He feels awfully exposed just with them, so he grabs Neymar’s blue t-shirt from the chair too. He closes the door carefully behind when he leaves the bedroom. When he finds the bathroom he locks the door sits on the toilet, burying his face to his hands and lets himself crumble.

The memories of the last night are blurry; disjointed and broken pictures of here and there. Leo breathes in deeply and tries to put his them in some sort of order, to find some prove that this isn't as bad as it looks. His brains get him to the pool, where he remembers whining about the chilly water. Yeah, the water had been cool, but Neymar's body had been very, very warm against his. They had been close. And they had kissed.

Leo groans quietly and fists his hair. That’s the point he can’t remember anything anymore. How or when they got off there and what the hell they've done after it. Okay, it isn't looking good, not at all. Despite his efforts of staying calm, Leo’s breaths are coming too quick and too shallow. The bathroom starts to swirl and he has to lower himself to the floor so he won’t fall down.

Leo remembers the conversation on phone with David, too, who had been way more jealous than he should. He remembers of being pissed off because of that and remembers taking the shots – which he definitely shouldn't have.

 _I love you, Leo_ , David had told him on the phone. And Leo loves him too, loves him _so_ much, so why the fuck is he here? How the fuck he has managed to fuck everything up. The black line in his memory only increases the panic, until he feels like he can’t breathe and his heart is pumping a way too fast and loud in his chest. He bends over the toilet and retches. There isn't much to come up, just some fluids and stomach-acids that burn in his throat.

He gags and coughs until nothing more comes up and then rests his forehead against the cool titles and closes his eyes.

He hates himself, absolutely hates himself – how could he have fucked it up so enormously? How could he hurt David so badly? And Ney too – he didn't deserve this either. He shouldn't have drunk so much; he should had kept it under control.

It’s hard to stands up to so unstable legs, but he does and rinses his mouth. It’s a shame that the water doesn’t flush off the fear and regret as easily as it does the bad taste.

He finds his way to the pool again, finding the bundle of their clothes there. They are cold, but Leo pulls on his shorts and almost his shirt too, but stalls before does it. He keeps Neymar’s shirt on. Not because he that much likes it or because it’s much more comfortable than his own damp and cold t-shirt, but because it’s a promise to himself. He will come back to return the shirt. He will come back to explain and solve things out, but right now he can’t do it. And now he has a reason to come back, he can’t chicken out of it.

He comes back inside and hesitates at the bedroom door before opening it. Neymar is still sleeping; now curled to his side, mouth slightly open as he quietly snores. It feels so surreal. _Did they really do it?_ Leo wonders that now when the dreading anxiety has made a little room to the common sense. What if they just took off their boxers because they were wet and then just passed out on the bed? Maybe he shouldn't jump to the worst possible outcome right away.

Surely Leo’s body would remember even if his mind didn’t. He would feel sore or had that dull ache inside him like usually after sex. Unless he was at the top. He swallows and almost feels hopeful before his eyes land to the condom packet and tube of lube near Neymar’s other leg and the panic strikes again, full force.

The nausea comes back and Leo has to lean back to the wall. Okay, they probably did it. It was hard to deny it. But now his biggest concern is the untouched packet of condom. Didn’t they use protection? They couldn’t be so stupid to not to use, especially when it was so close to the hand. The only man he’d had ever had sex with was David and currently yes, without condoms, but it was because of a shared decision not to use them. They had been together for so many years and trusted each others. Or had trusted.

Tears burn behind his eyes, but Leo blinks them away and gets out from the room. He leaves a note at the fridges door and grabs his keys. He is not sure if he is in the condition to drive, but he can’t stay.

On the road Leo realizes that he can’t go home. David is probably just come back, as his flight had left so early, and Leo can’t see him just yet. He grips the steering wheel hard to stop his hands from shaking, but it doesn’t help much. He needs a time to think. To sober up.

He turns the car around and drives to the nearest place he can think of going.

 

+

 

Shakira opens the door, holding Milan in her arms. "Hey, Leo!" She smiles brightly and Leo tries to mirror it as good as he can.

"Hey. I'm really sorry to bother, but is Geri...uh, is he home?"

Shakira blinks, her smile fading away. "Yes, yes he is. Is everything okay?" She asks, eyes sympathizing. _Motherly_. Leo nods and tries to smile again, failing miserably.

"Please, come in," Shakira moves away from the door and lets Milan down. The kid takes a few swaying steps before falling down, but gets back up immediately. Stubborn. Like his father. Leo crouches down to the little guy who smiles brightly at him.

He sees in the corner of his eyes Gerard appearing to the room. He is obviously going to say something to Leo, before Shakira brushes his arm and Gerard bends his head down to hear the quiet words she whispers in his ear. Leo has a strong feeling that it’s about him.

She flashes a quick smile for Leo before leaving the room.

“Hey, nice for you to come to visit me, Pulga. Didn't warn me at all, thought,” Pique teases and lifts Milan up to his arms. Leo knows that he is joking, but even that seems accusing at the moment, in his very fragile state of mind.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude,” he says quietly.

“Yeah, no problem,” Gerard frowns. “Leo? Is something wrong?” His tone sends Leo years back to his childhood, to the game when one kid violently tackled him down. Gerard had yelled and pushed the kid, then pulled Leo close and asked him if he was okay. Leo had almost forgotten this, how protective Pique used to be. It was a long time since they were kids and Leo had learned to defend himself; had become stronger. But maybe some instincts never really faded out.

“No,” he lied. “I was just wondering if I could hang here a while?” He knows that Gerard doesn’t believe him, but hopes that he lets it be.

They offer him a late breakfast and something to drink but Leo refuses; even a thought of food turns his stomach upside down. Then Gerard suggests for a few game of Fifa, but after Leo miserably loses the first one, they let it be. Leo knows that he is being a horrible guest, but he can’t really help it.

Finally he finds himself curled on the small bed in guestroom, Gerard sitting in the edge of it, looking clueless of what to do.

"Should I call someone?” Gerard asks quietly, “Does David know-"

"No," Leo stops him quickly. "No. Don't call anyone, please."

The taller man runs a hand through his hair, “Then talk to me, Leo. What the fuck is wrong? You come here looking like someone has died and then insist that everything is fine. Come on, Leo, I’m not that stupid.”

Leo swallows, “It’s just – I don’t feel so good.”

“What?” Gerard asks; worry creeping into his tone, “What do you mean? Should you go to the hospital, then?” Leo knows that his puking on the games has worried many and does his best not to make it even a bigger deal than it already is. It’s not even about that now.

“No, no,” he assures, “Just a normal hangover.”

Gerard looks him for a long second, “A _hangover_?” he says, prolonging the word, “You? Since when you have even drank – I mean _really_ drank?”

Leo makes a vague noise, trying to end their conversation there. It works, because Gerard sighs and shakes his head. “Come to ask if you need something,” he says quietly and stands up, “Anything.”

Leo nods and hugs the pillow tighter.

When Gerard leaves the room, Leo had thought to feel relieved to be alone, but now the white walls seem to even more pressuring. The silence isn't comforting, but rather oppressing. He has never felt this desperate; trapped in the cage he had made to himself. He closes his eyes and tries to catch a sleep, just to have that blessed oblivion.

He dreams that he is drowning. The sea is black and the waves are unforgiving, trying to pull him under the surface. Something moves around his ankles, pulling him down to the depth. He tries to scream, but chokes on the water that is everywhere.

When he is just about to get under he sees David. He is on the water too, but there’s something different; he is not struggling. He is easily floating not far from Leo and looks Leo with a dull expression. Why isn't David helping him?

 _'Why don’t you swim?'_ David asks him, eyes dark. Leo tries to answer that he can’t, but there’s salty water in his mouth. _Can’t you swim?_ David frowns, _well, that’s your own fault._

That’s when the ocean finally takes the overhand and pulls Leo down. He kicks and screams, but his pleads are nothing more than a burst of bubbles in the dark water. He will die now. He can’t swim.

He jerks awake, hearing David’s hollow words echoing in his head. His eyes wander to the door where he sees Pique standing, realizing that it must have been the tall man who woke him up.

"Sorry. Didn't now you were sleeping,” Gerard says and comes in. Leo doesn't answer, just stares numbly. Gerard rubs his hands together, as if preparing to say something.

"I know you told me to not to call anyone," he starts, and this is probably first time Leo has seen him so unsure. Or is it nervous. Leo can't tell. "-But you won't talk. You won't talk to me and I know that you told that you're fine, but... but you're really not. You're a mess, Leo." Leo's heart beats faster, but his façade stays unreadable. Gerard wouldn't do anything without his permission, right?

"Please, don't hold this against me," Pique says, "I'm your friend, Pulga." No. He wouldn't have...

But he has. David steps in behind him, worry all over his face and Leo has a hard time to breath properly after he comes in.

"So... I leave you two alone," Gerard says and leaves quietly, closing the door with a loud click. Leo can't help but wincing slightly at the noise. He feels like he is locked up. Locked up with his mistakes that now were gonna burn him alive. Or drown him.

"Leo?" David's voice is soft and soothing, like he is talking to a wounded animal, and Leo can't, he really can't take that. David comes closer and kneels in front of him, gently brushing Leo's cheek with his knuckles.

"Leo," he repeats his name, "Are you okay, baby?"

And that's the final straw that Leo can't take. He breaks. He breaks even when he shouldn't have – he is the bad guy here, he is the one who screwed up everything. He buries his face to his hands and trembles at the force of his breakdown. The breaths he takes are too shallow and tears burn in his eyes. He feels sick again. Dizzy. David shouldn't be comforting him like he is, voice little panicked when he’s asking what’s wrong. David should be angry.

But oh, yeah. David doesn't know. And Leo has to tell him.

Now.

He swallows thickly, trying to calm his heart and uneven breaths – that were really sobs by now. It takes a minute, but finally the storm inside him calms down enough. He heatedly rubs the tears away and lets out a one hiccups. David's other hand is firm on his hip and the other one is in Leo's dark hair, smoothing slowly through it.

"You should know that I'm really freaked out by now," David says, eyes desperate, "Are you alright? You aren't hurt, are you?" Leo shakes his head and takes one more calming breath.

"Then what? Please Leo, talk to me." Leo looks back to the dark hazel eyes and swallows. He has never loathed himself this much.

"I can't remember," he finally croaks out, voice shaky.

David blinks. "What... What do you mean you can't remember? Don't you remember anything at all from last night? Were you drugged?" His volume rises with every sentence, and the anxiety is palpable on his voice.

Leo shakes his head again, "No, no..." He can see how much David wants to ask something more, pull the answers out of Leo, but he stays put. Eyebrows frowned and fingers digging too hard on Leo’s hipbone. “I – I can’t remember because I drank way too much yesterday,” Leo continues hoarsely.

“Okay,” David mumbles, encouraging him to go on, but Leo can see the disguised fear in his eyes.

“I remember something, like that I – Ney and I… we kissed,” his voice his very quiet, less than a whisper, but he knows that David can hear him, “And – and I can’t remember any further, but it’s – it’s…” Leo swallows. The lump in his throat makes it hard to go on, “It’s very possible that we did more than that.”

He stops there, feeling nausea that isn't related to his hangover any way. It’s like his stomach is turned upside down. He watches quietly as the emotions flick on David’s face like a movie.

It’s disbelief at first; maybe David didn't believe that this was possible, even though he so much warned him of what Neymar wanted. Soon the shock turns into fear and hurt - not anger, and somehow that makes it all even worse. Leo had wanted Davis to scream, shout how stupid and horrible he had been, so Leo could beg on his knees for David's forgiveness.

But no. It was fear and pain and it was the most horrible reaction what Leo could ever expect. Leo had hoped David to fuck him too hard, to shout, to fucking even hit or slap; anything but that heart breaking pain that was written all over his beautiful features. David's eyes glisten and Leo would do anything if he could erase past 24 hours.

“I’m so sorry,” Leo chokes out, tears swelling behind his eyes again. He can never say that enough.

David makes a quiet noise in his throat and something shifts in his eyes. His jaw tenses and his eyes sharpen up and Leo recognizes that it’s the anger, finally. David has a right to pour it all on Leo, he deserves it all; every harsh word, shove or shout. But then David’s hand brushes gently at the side of Leo’s neck and he realizes that the fury isn't for him.

“No, it’s not him, I fucked everything up,” Leo rasps. It’s not Neymar who is in a relationship, after all.

“Did you start it? The kissing?” David asks quietly. Leo swallows and shakes his head slowly. David grinds his teeth as if saying ‘ _see?_ ’.

“If there’s someone to blame, it’s me,” Leo says. Neymar doesn’t deserve David’s anger, but it seems that Leo can’t smother down that revulsion; it’s burning too deep inside. He just hopes that David won’t do anything reckless if he sees Neymar again. David has a hot temper even thought he has calmed and got more mature through the years.

“What’s his address?” David asks suddenly.

“No,” Leo pleads, letting his hand fall on David’s tense shoulder, “No, come on David. I’m not telling you that.” David stares him sternly, before sighing and stroking Leo’s jaw.

“Okay, fine,” he says tightly and Leo doesn’t believe in one second that David had let that go. “Let’s lie down for a while. I need that. And you sure look like you need that,” David says quietly.

Leo stares him, not believing what David is suggesting. Sleep? _Now?_ But he doesn’t resist when David pulls him down to the sheets and tucks him closer. They fit just perfectly on the small bed. Leo lays there in his arms, wondering why David still wants to be close to him, how he can even look at him after what Leo just told him. He, however, doesn't relax against Leo at all.

Even when he has just slept an hour or so and had a long night sleep Leo feels exhausted. Being so emotional tires him out and he falls asleep quickly, dreaming about drowning again, but this time David drowns with him.

And if anything, it’s worse.


	9. Breaking point

First thing what Neymar thought when he woke up, was that it had all been just a dream.

Very arousing and very depressing dream. He had a good imagination, yeah, but this was something he couldn’t come up to. And if he had, his dream wouldn’t surely include Leo moaning Villa’s name when he came.

It was a huge disappointment, that Leo had been gone. Like a stab in the chest.

It hurt, to be left like that – only to find one ripped piece of paper with Leo’s scrappy handwriting on it. Neymar had rumbled the paper into a small ball and tossed it through the kitchen, wishing that Leo hadn’t left any note at all. Just so he could have more reason to be angry. He was hurt, yes, but he couldn’t really blame Leo for leaving.

The last night actually felt like a dream or faded memory behind the years. He remembered general view, but the details were blurred and vague, expect few ones, which got stuck in his head on repeat. Like how incredible black Leo’s eyes had looked and the noise he had made when Neymar had kissed and sucked his throat.

The more Neymar thought about it, the more stupid he felt. Why the fuck he didn’t say anything, stop it before they had got further than kissing and explained. Tell Leo how he felt, say that it wasn’t just alcohol in his veins.

What had Leo thought? Did he think just that; that Neymar was drunk and out of himself, doing everything just because he was horny. _Fuck_. He really managed to screw it up. What he had been even thinking? That he would be so amazing in bed that Leo would just jump away from Villa to his arms. _Yeah, sure, good thinking!_  

Neymar vowed to never drink before doing something this crucial – not even to give for kick of courage. A few drinks less and maybe, _maybe_ , he would have managed to make more rational decisions. Or maybe he should have held the liquor from Leo. But God, how devastated Leo had looked after that phone call. And Neymar had had a good idea what it had been about.

But really, relationships shouldn’t work like that. Leo should have been beaming and smiling after speaking with the love of his life, but no, he had been anything like that. And Neymar should have said what he had been thinking then. That _I’m better for you than he is. I won’t try to own you or smother you, and I’ll never make you feel that bad. I promise_.

But the moment was long gone, like the change to talk about it.

Neymar was laying on the bed when someone knocked the front door. Well, knocking wasn’t like it – more like someone tried to force itself inside with fists.

"Okay okay, wait a minute," Neymar mumbled to himself as he hurried to fumble on a pair of pants before going to open the door. He barely managed to unlock it, when Villa already pushed inside and slammed the door close behind. "Jesus, what-?" Neymar mumbled and felt oddly disoriented, even thought Villa was now in top 5 in people that would storm into his house.

"You-," Villa hissed and poked him on the chest with accusing finger and Neymar backed away few steps. He had never seen the Spain player so angry. Angry wasn't even strong enough to describe it; Villa was furious. His dark brown eyes flaming, shoulders tense, and white teeth bared.

"I told you not to,-" Villa growled. Neymar’s confusion was quickly replaced with an anxiety, a heavy rocks settling in his stomach. He let out a surprised yelp when Villa roughly pushed him to the wall. "I told you not to do anything. I fucking told you not to touch him," Villa's voice was dangerously low and full of venom and Neymar was really worried and maybe a slightest bit afraid of him by now.

Brazilian opened and closed his mouth like a fish, no words getting out. They formed somewhere deep in his chest, but they died in his throat before they passed his lips. What could he even say? What he could even say to calm Villa. Neymar had pleasured his boyfriend when he was drunk and out of his head – what he could ever say to make that okay.

“Are you happy now, huh?” Villa continued, hands clenching on Neymar’s white t-shirt, ”You had what you wanted. Do you just have to have things that are out of reach? Do that with football, but leave Leo the fuck out of that.”

Anger flamed hot in Neymar’s chest. Who the fuck was Villa to come his house and accuse him of something like that. He pushed Villa hard on the chest. “Fuck you! Don’t you blame me for any of that; you are the one who practically pushed him away. Can’t say that he was reluctant yesterday,” Neymar snapped back.

Villa let out a mocking, bitter laugh at that, “Yeah? So tell me, are you sure that Leo would have done all the same if you hadn’t served him your every bottle of booze?” He asked, smile taut and false.

That stopped Neymar on his tracks. _But I love him_ , he almost said – it was the best argument he had and it was not even good enough. And the worst part was that Villa is right. If there wouldn’t have been no alcohol involved, would Leo still had made the same decisions all over? No, he hardly thinks so.

It stung. The pain in his chest was something he had never experienced before.

They stare at each other for a long time until Neymar rasps out, "I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry." And he was. Not because of Villa, but because he was disappointed that it didn’t work out like he wanted. Because the way Leo had moaned Villa’s name had broke his heart to pieces.

Neymar tentatively laid his other hand on David's shoulder. The older man was shaking under his hand and Neymar was little afraid that he would really punch him. But under that anger, he saw also worry and fear. And he understood, he really did. If Leo was his boyfriend, he would want to strangle everyone who had done the same.

But Leo wasn't his, and angry Villa before him, was a very clear reminder of that.

"Well, your sorry doesn't fix everything!" Villa spit between his teeth, but with less force now, "Do you even think before you act?"

Well, that Neymar had been asking himself the whole morning.

"I'm sorry," Neymar repeated. He didn't know what else to say. Then after a second he spoke again; he needed to clarify something, in case Villa wasn't aware, "We didn't, you know, fuck. At least not-,"

"I don't want to hear what you did," Villa cut him off, sounding somehow stretched, "Just don't ever fucking to it again.” Villa's breath was harsh on his face and Neymar decided just to nod. He had done what he could to calm Villa down. If he still decided to punch him, Neymar couldn’t do much more than accept it.

Then, all of sudden, Villa's anger melted away; like a sparkling fire dying with the lack of air. He withdrew himself and flopped on the couch, burying his face into his hands. Neymar didn’t see his face but the pain was palpable.

“So that didn’t help, huh?” Neymar said lowly. He knew that maybe it wasn’t wise to say anything, but he couldn’t control his impulses sometimes. He sat down to the couch next to Villa so their knees were touching.

Villa lets out a puff of air, then; “No. But it hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” He looks smaller now when the rage has smothered down.

Something tightens on Neymar’s chest – they were kind of rivals now, he and Villa, but not fighting over any Cup or trophy. And Neymar realizes that he doesn’t hate Villa, or doesn’t even dislike him. If anything, he feels sympathy. All that rage; it’s nothing but fear and pain, masked into something else. And Neymar sees all that under the surface and really understands, because he feels it too.

The pain and disappointed when Leo didn’t say his name when he came; the hollow feeling in his chest when he woke up alone, only to find one lonely piece of paper on the fridge’s door. Suddenly Neymar has a weird urge to punch Leo. Punch him and then kiss him senseless.

“Would you be good to him?” Villa suddenly asks, quietly. 

Those words had bigger impact than anything Villa had said before and Neymar felt like his stomach had dropped off. _Would you be good to him?_ Suddenly Neymar feels ten times more horrible and guilty. That shows how much Villa loves him. _If he chooses you would you be good for him?_ Neymar had never intended to come between something like that, never wanted anyone to get hurt – he just got after what he desired.

He doesn't answer, but maybe Villa didn't really expect one.

 

+

 

David had thought that raging at Neymar would've eased his pain – well, it didn't. Maybe he kind of knew that, but he had to give it a shot.

Now when he was driving back to Pique where he had left Leo sleeping, he wanted to go anywhere but there. He actually didn't want to see Leo; and that was something he thought wouldn’t be possible. It would hurt too much. Now was bad enough.

David had been Leo's first. He thought that he would be his last and only too. He hated to think that Neymar had seen Leo like that; bare and arching on the bed. He had wanted to be the only one to see Leo like that. To have Leo like that.

Finally he had to stop by the road. For many minutes he didn't do anything, just stared numbly at nothing. Then he pulled out his phone texted Leo to get ready. Soon his phone started to buzz, showing id of the caller. David stared down at the ' _Leo_ ' on the screen before hanging up.

He couldn't handle it now.

Leo tried to call two times more but David hung up those too.

Then he received a text; " _I'm ready. Where are you?_ "

And there, on the side of the road, David reached his breaking point. He broke down. Shattered.

He screamed from the bottom of his lungs and banged at the wheel, trashing against the seat-belt. An when he had poured all his energy out he just leaned his head against the wheel. He didn't realize that he was crying until he raised his head and saw wet marks on the black driving wheel. He stroked it slowly off with his thumb and swallowed thickly.

He hadn't known any real pain before. Never mind the broken leg or injured knees. Those aches didn't reach to the heart.


	10. I'd swallow poison if it tasted like you

When Leo wakes up to David’s message to get ready, his stomach turns around.

And when Gerard says that he had told David Neymar’s address when he had asked, Leo feels like banging his head to the wall. _Why did he fall asleep? Why didn’t he see that coming?_

The fact that David wasn’t answering his calls or messages doesn’t help at all.

Leo waits on the stairs in front of Pique’s house, wiping his sweaty palms to his shorts and checking his iPhone constantly, but David doesn’t text back. _He is driving, he can’t play with the phone_ ; he tries to reassure himself, but in the back of his mind Leo fears that David doesn’t show up at all and his anxiety grows with every passing minute.

But David is there – like he promised – under fifteen minutes, yet the relief Leo feels is just momentary.

David doesn’t look him at all when he sits on the passenger seat. A thousand questions and words are on Leo’s tongue, but the harsh look in David’s eyes stops him before he gets them out. The silence is pressing and awkward while they drive home, but Leo can’t do anything to break it. He just glances at David once in a while; the sharp line of his tensed jaw, dark eyes that are covered with numb pain.

It’s the most awful drive Leo can remember.

When the car stops, David is out of it before Leo can even blink his eyes, but he scrambles off his seat-belt and steps out of the car too. David has already kicked of his shoes and is typing something on his phone when Leo reaches him in the kitchen.

“David,” Leo says with a small voice. He coughs a little and tries again, “Did you… You didn’t fight, did you?”

David doesn’t look at him when he answers with a flat voice. “No. Just talked.”

Leo tries not to show his hurt and pain, because it isn't about him, it’s about David. But God, how it’s hard. David is so close to him, yet he had never been this far. He had never been somewhere where Leo couldn’t have reached him. Until now.

Leo stares him until David is done going through his phone and steps to leave the room. “David,” he tries again, feeling it hard to find the words. Or even his voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispers.

David doesn’t even turn, just mumbles “I know,” and leaves and Leo finds it hard to swallow.

 

+

 

Later David stares records of old World Cups that Leo has on his laptop, but Leo doubts that he really even concentrates on them.

Leo on the other hand can’t find a comfortable place in his own house. The aching feeling in his chest prevents him to even focus on anything. He tries to talk to David a couple of times, but he only gets distant and short replies so he stops that soon. Then he plays one and half games of Fifa, but can’t sit down more than that so he turns the console off.

After that he just wanders around the house and does some pointless tasks, like arranges his socks in the drawer by the color (which are mainly black and white), and goes through his old photos.

David doesn’t lift his gaze from the screen a whole day.

Leo apologizes.

Many times.

David only nods or mumbles something incoherent back.

It’s half past three when Leo asks him what he wants to eat, but David says that he isn’t hungry, so Leo just makes himself one sandwich. He manages to eat only half of it.

It’s around 10 p.m. when Leo hears the water running in the bathroom. He is already on the bed, sitting against the bed post, playing with his phone. Fifteen minutes later David steps on the bedroom, a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist and Leo lays away his phone and bites his lower lip. The silence has been so pressing that he is almost afraid to say anything anymore.

He braves himself. “You didn’t eat anything.”

And finally, _fucking finally_ David at looks him.

It’s very brief, a flick of dark eyes, looking down at Leo. Leo breath gets stuck in his throat, because the look in David’s eyes is too cold and numb. He looks like a man who has lost so much; who doesn’t care about anything anymore.

Leo never had thought that he would get that look on him. Or that he would even see that look on him.

“I had the chicken that was in your fridge,” David says bluntly, taking his eyes away from Leo quickly. Leo just nods and swallows hard. David dresses up quickly and slides under the covers, clicking the lights off after.

Leo tries to calm down his heavy breathing; presses his nails to his palms and bites inside his cheek. He watches at the dark silhouette on the other side of the bed, curled away from him. He wants so much to touch him – wants to feel David’s hands around himself, wants David to kiss on the forehead before falling asleep. He wants David to smile again. He wants to be able to mock David’s earrings, to kiss down his body – wants to be able to touch him. Carelessly. Freely.

But Leo doesn’t dare to do anything.

He is afraid that if he touches David, he doesn’t respond, or worst; pushes him away. _But you would deserve that_ , the voice whispers in the back of his head. It’s an awful thing, but the voice it right. He doesn’t deserve love from David, or doesn’t have any right to ask it.

Leo would much rather take happy David on the other end of Skype than this cold one between his sheets.

He isn’t sure if David is already sleeping, but murmurs something about water anyway and tiptoes to the kitchen, but in there he doesn’t drink, just sits down and stares at the sink.

The tears that fall on his cheeks are silent, but his breathing isn’t. He puts his both hands to cover his mouth. He cries silently until his tears dry out and his eyes are sore and heavy, and he has nothing to pour out anymore. The feeling so exhausting that he thinks that he could pass out.

He manages to the couch and pulls one thin blanket over his shoulder.

The walls of his house has never been so suffocating.

 

+

 

Two days passes without anything really changing.

It doesn’t get better, but Leo almost gets used to the aching feeling in his chest and the sickening pull on his stomach. _Almost_.

David doesn’t talk or do much. Mostly just watches TV.

Leo finds it hard to eat properly. Or sleep. Pique calls couple of times, but Leo tells him that everything is fine. He doesn’t sound convincing, he knows that. He is a terrible liar.

 

+

 

It’s the third day when Leo sits on the bedroom, laptop next to him. He stares down at the flying tickets on his hand. He had thought it over many times, yes. He has tried to think everything else, but doesn’t know what to do anymore.

David hardly talks to him, only responds shortly to his questions. He doesn’t look at Leo, doesn’t come close to him; only stares at the TV with blunt eyes. Expect for few times when he took Leo’s car and got off for an hour or so. And when he came back he had few small plastic bags and Leo was curious, yeah, but didn’t ask anything.

Leo thinks that he has never experienced a pain like he has in those few days. And if he feels that, how must David feel? It pains him to see David like that; shakes him to the very core of his being – he really wants to make it better, but doesn’t know how. He doesn’t want this, but he can’t come up any other way anymore.

 _This isn’t over_ , Leo thinks; _he just needs some time to think things through_. But despite what he thinks, it feels like the end.

He breathes few times deeply; braves himself. He won’t cry; he needs to be strong. For David.

He goes down to the living room where David is sitting on the couch, holding the plane tickets in his sweaty hands. _I'm doing the right thing_ , he thinks. David needs time. And loving people around him – people that won’t hurt him like Leo did. Better people.

“David,” Leo says and sits next to him, but leaves a gap between them. David only hums quietly; doesn’t move his gaze from the TV. Leo swallows and glances at the tickets again.

“I know that it doesn’t matter how much I apologize, but I’m sorry,” he starts out quietly, “And I would do anything for the change to take it all back, but I can’t – I –” He can’t look at David anymore, so he blinks down at his hands. “I thought that maybe you need some time,” he whispers, “Away from me.”

That’s got David’s attention.

He shifts on the couch, eyes now on Leo. Leo keeps his focus on breathing steadily and sets the tickets down the couch, on the gap between him and David. David picks them up slowly.

“What are these?” he asks harshly, even thought he very well sees what they are.

“Your tickets,” Leo swallows thickly, “-back to home.”

The silence lasts four seconds.

Yes, Leo counts.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Leo lifts his head so fast that his neck makes a cracking sound, “No! Of course not, if you… If you don’t want to-,” That wasn’t the message he wanted to send with the tickets. Leo doesn’t lower his eyes anymore and for his shock, the numb mask in David’s face is melting away.

“Do you want me to leave?” David whispers, different kind of pain in his voice.

Leo tries to say no, but his voice betrays him and he just shakes his head. The tears are stinging behind his eyes and there is a lump in his throat, but he won’t cry, no – he vowed himself not to.

“Then why did you buy these?” David asks, looking down at the printed pieces of paper. Leo opens his mouth, but closes it soon again. This isn’t going like he expected. He had thought that David would just numbly accept the tickets, pack his things and take the fly off from Barcelona. Away from Leo. Because Leo isn’t good with feelings or psychology, but he knows that much that you should cut off the people and things that aren’t good for you.

And Leo is one of those things.

David shakes his head slowly and rubs his forehead. “Oh Leo, you’re so stupid,” he groans quietly and Leo’s heart flinches painfully. He doesn’t understand where their conversation is going. Maybe he just should be happy that he had finally pulled David out of his coma. Take the insult or blows. Or both - whatever David has to offer.

But David doesn’t sound _really_ angry, which only baffles Leo more.

“Why would you think that this would help anything?” David continues and rips the tickets in two, then tosses them on the coffee table. Leo stares the ripped papers numbly. He doesn’t know what to think.

Suddenly David sits up quickly and pulls Leo along with a strong grip on his bicep. Leo gasps when David practically drags him from the living room to the dimly lighted bedroom. He almost stumbles with his feet but David’s grip keeps him upright.

He rubs his bicep when David lets go of him and guides him to stand in front of the undone bed.

“Stay,” David says while standing behind him, “-and take off your shirt.” Leo blinks and is about to turn and look at David, but the hands around his shoulders stop him.

“Stay,” This time David’s whisper holds in so much authority that Leo can’t prevent the shiver running down his back. He nods and tries to relax his shoulders to show the obedience. He hears David search something – the quiet rustle of plastic bags and clothes. The urge to look is huge, but he stays put, fixing his gaze to the rumbled sheets. He doesn’t hear David to step closer again and flinches when his vision his suddenly blocked by a cool fabric.

“Relax,” David murmurs and tightens the knot behind Leo’s head and kisses the nape of his neck, “Trust me.”

Leo swallows and tries to get used to the sudden blindness. The textile is surprisingly comfortable – probably silk – and doesn’t let anything through, no shapes, no lights, nothing. Leo finds it a little bit unnerving but forces himself to stay still.

“And what else did I say.” David’s breath is hot on his neck, “Shirt. Off.”

 _Oh_. That. He had completely forgotten. Leo pulls off his shirt with stiff movement and drops it on the floor.

As soon as his shirt hits the floor David’s hands are on him. He starts out slow, trailing his fingers down Leo’s spine and along the line of his jeans. Leo feels his heart fluttering like a bird in his cage, trying to get loose. He can almost feel how the older man burns – the way his breath hits Leo’s skin, how his fingers tremble just the slightest – like it’s hard to keep the composure.

“I need to be the only one,” David whispers in Leo’s hair, slowly moving his hands around Leo’s waist to pop the button of his jeans open. Leo’s breath hitches when those same hands pull down the zipper and cups his growing erection.

“Only one to see you like this –” David continues, pressing his palm hard against Leo’s cock. Leo wants to move, wants so hard to thrust on David’s hand, but knows that he isn’t allowed to. Even thought David hasn’t said anything about that. He just knows. So instead he just bites his lower lip and tries to keep the whimpers inside.

“– and only one to have you like this,” David ends and bites the spot where neck meets shoulder. Leo tenses, but doesn’t flinch away, which he is very proud of.

David pulls Leo’s jeans down all the way and nudges him forward, until Leo’s knees meet the bed and he falls on his stomach on it. He's about to lift his body to get better position, but David presses him down before he can even properly move. Leo's hands scatter and grasp the sheets, trying to regain composure or control of some kind. David doesn't give him neither.

His other hand is heavy on Leo's lower back and the other takes a firm grip of Leo's soft hair, tugging his head backwards. It exposes a long line of his pale throat and Leo actually whimpers when David bites down and sucks the soft skin of his neck. Leo hates to be on his stomach; that way he has so little control. And that way he doesn't get to touch David as much as he likes to.

That added to the fact that he can’t see anything, gets him on the edge. If it would anyone else than David with him, he would already be trashing and screaming to get away.

David's breath is harsh and Leo can feel his hard on through the layer of their clothes as David grinds down against the curve of his ass.

Leo has ever felt like this. It's the same arousal as before, but this time it's mixed with slightest hint of fear, that has his skin crawling and shivers running through his back. David has never been like this. He has always been firm but gentle, asked what Leo wanted, been sure everything was fine. It's a little scary feeling, that David doesn't let him to move; just pins him hard against the mattress.

But then the hands are off again.

Leo tries to calm down his loud breathing to hear what David is doing up. It’s funny how it so much improves your other senses when your sight is taken off. He hears David moving, probably rustling his clothes off and taking something from the drawer – a rustling with plastic bags again. Then a quiet rattling than comes closer and it can’t be – _it can’t be what he think it is –_

Cold metal locks around his wrist. _It most definitely is what he thinks_. David cuffs his other hand too, and Leo has to pull them, even when he knows that they are firmly around the bedpost.

He doesn’t know is he more aroused or afraid now. He trusts David. Of course he does. But this is new, should they have a safe word or something?

Leo tries to be as still as possible when David sucks and licks down to his neck and shoulder, using a bit too much teeth. His hand is on Leo’s hair again, taking a firm grip of it and keeping his head in place, while he marks down the pale skin under his lips.

And David’s mouth goes lower, lower, _lower_ …

His hand leaves Leo’s hair only when his mouth reaches his lower back, and then waistband of Leo's boxers. He tugs them down with sharp pulls that are so forceful that they yank Leo a little backwards too. When David gets them off, he goes on kissing and biting the firm curve of Leo's ass.

"David," Leo gasps sharply at one particularly hard bite, but either David doesn't hear him or just ignores him. Leo knows how he will look tomorrow, hickeys and bites scattered all over his body.

David's hands run down on his slim back, and then go spreading his thighs.

A faint taste of blood fills his mouth when he finally bites a cut to his lower lip. Leo tries to relax when the first lube covered finger pushes inside to the last knuckle. He thinks that David is purposely avoiding his prostate, until he adds the second slick finger, pushing them deep and twisting them. Leo's hips push back unintentionally and he slips out a soft moan, unable to keep it in. David takes a grip of Leo's hair again and keeps brushing his prostate with sharp thrusts, pain mixing to the hot pleasure.

He bends Leo's head back just enough to bite his earlobe, then growls in his ears, "You won't ever touch him again-" And Leo thinks that he shouldn't be this aroused by that, but oh he is; achingly hard and desperate. "-and he won't ever touch you again," David continues with a low voice and Leo whimpers because David adds the third finger little too soon. 

"You won't let him to touch you." It’s almost unnoticeable, how David’s breathe hitches in the last syllable, showing the emotions behind the fierce words.

"Clear?" David asks him and Leo nods, but apparently it's not enough, because his grip on Leo hair tightens and his fingers twist inside Leo.

Leo gives out a high-pitched moan, "Yes, yes – _oh God yes_!"

David withdraws his fingers and takes a firm grip of Leo’s waist and turns him over. The handcuffs won’t yield even a bit, leaving Leo’s wrists tangled in a little uncomfortable position, but he barely notices. It’s hard to stay put – he squirms on the rumpled sheets, very aware of David’s eyes on him. Somehow this position makes him feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

"Leo."

Leo shivers when he hears his own name, barely whispered - it almost loses to the sound of his own bounding heart. He swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to steadily breathe in and out –

In… and out.

All Leo can hear is his own heartbeat fluttering against his ribcage and loud, uneven breathing as David slides his hands under Leo’s knees and bends his legs against his chest.

“Mine,” David hisses to his ear when he finally positions himself and pushes his cock inside – harder and faster than he is used to – and Leo gasps and throws his head to the side. David takes a stronger grip around Leo’s hips and pulls off almost completely before pushing hard in again and Leo can only whimper and choke on the air, trashing against the handcuffs – in vain.

David fucks him hard.

So hard that it’s only barely more pleasure than pain.

But Leo doesn’t ask him to stop. He doesn’t even want to. He deserves this one.

So he only moans when David pulls his hips to meet his own rough thrusts. He hits Leo’s prostate with every stroke and Leo thinks that he has never been so loud. He doesn’t know what comes out of his mouth; mostly he just whimpers, pleads and whines – and for what? He doesn’t even know.

He can barely think. He didn’t even think that one could be over stimulated, but know he knows better. He is almost desperate to come; desperate for any friction for his cock, but David gives him none. He knows that he doesn’t deserve to come, yet he pleads for it shamefully.

It’s David’s name what he settles to; gasping and moaning it over and over again, until his voice is hoarse and throat is sore. David keeps up the hard pace and Leo really can’t take it longer, so when David grunts “ _mine_ ” between his pants, Leo comes – he comes without a touch on his own cock, with a strangled whimper as the white spots dance in the corner of his vision. Through the haze of his orgasm Leo can hear David gasping, when he clenches around his cock.

A wave runs through Leo’s body, leaving him a warm, euphoric feeling and he doesn’t even flinch when David bites down to his shoulder and comes inside him with a final hard thrust.

He vaguely remembers when David came home few days ago with the plastic bags, and he realizes that they were handcuffs and blindfold. David had bought them, he _planned_ to do this - somehow Leo feels both relieved and aroused by the thought.

He feels warm inside; warm, aching and sore. Very, _very_ sore, but he isn’t complaining. He doesn’t think that he even could – his brain is mush; unable to build any rational sentence. David has literally fucked him to the next Sunday and he doesn’t even want to think about the practices he has tomorrow.

“Yours,” Leo finally mumbles with his sore throat when he is able to think again. He wants nothing more than get rid of those stupid cuffs and blindfold, so he can see and touch David again. David breaths loudly, crushed on top of Leo and still inside him. His hands – still on Leo’s hips – start to rub soothingly as the older man trails his lips along Leo’s cheekbone.

Leo has missed that like a crazy, so much he thinks that he could cry with happiness; the soft kisses David now leaves on his neck and collarbone. He had missed the love.

“Yours…” he whispers again.

_Yours._


	11. The good and the bad

"Yours."

The word loosens something in David's chest.

He exhales slowly and allows himself to finally relax.

"Yours..." Leo whispers again, voice wrecked. David's lip quirks up and he drops a few kisses on Leo's cheekbone, before trailing his lips down the younger mans throat.

He had really needed that – needed to have it rough, needed to hear Leo to echo his name until his voice was hoarse. Needed to know that he was the only one who had Leo's heart, because Leo had his.

Leo had stolen it with their first kiss. Or maybe even before that. It had been after the game; David had pressed Leo to the wall of changing room all those years ago and kissed frozen Leo in front of Xavi, Pique and Valdes.

It had been awkward, yeah. He had blamed the euphoria of winning the final match, winning La Liga. Blamed Leo's smile and his tousled hair and sparkling eyes.

Blamed his own heart.

But God, Leo was the best fall of his life.

As David slowly comes down from the haze of his orgasm, he realizes that Leo is shaking. Trembling against him and the cuffs, breathing unsteadily and - is he crying?

Something twists in David's stomach.

Leo is crying quietly without any sound and as much David wanted to rough Leo up, he can never forgive himself if he has hurt Leo. His hands tremble a little when he snatches the key from the bed side table and opens the handcuffs. They have left angry red marks on Leo's wrists, metal cut to the skin.

David swallows and helps Leo to fumble off the blindfold, too. It's a little damp from the tears, and so are his lashes; glued slightly together as he blinks. Leo's cheeks are flushed and he tries to hide his face of David's neck as soon as the blindfold is off.

"No, no, no... None of that now," David coaxes Leo's face from his neck. He needs to see Leo, needs to know that he is alright.

Leo looks ashamed and tries to look away anyway, brushing tears away with shaky hands. David grips Leo's chin, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt?" David asks, voice little breathy and heart keeps pumping loud in his chest. He knows that Leo probably wouldn't have asked David to stop, even if he needed it. Even if he’d been in pain. The man can be stubborn like that.

So David fears that he's gone too far; his brain shaped the cries of pain into pleasure. He had opened Leo up for him, but maybe he had been too hasty with it? He has always been so careful with that; to stretch the younger man enough. Sometimes to the point where Leo was begging him to get on with it. Why he had been so careless with it now?

Leo swallows thickly and mumbles “no”, but David narrows his eyes. It was his advantage that Leo wasn't good liar.

But he doesn't say anything, because he knows that Leo would lie about it again - and again and again; trying to convince that he is fine. For David.

So he doesn't say anything, just moves back enough to spread Leo's legs even more.

"No, no- wait!" Leo stops him and tries to sit up, "It's too much, I'm sorry, I can't go agai-"

David shuts him up with open mouthed kiss, swallowing every protest and pushes Leo's upper body to the bed again. Yes, he knows that second row would be too much for Leo.

"Don't worry. I just need to check something," he whispers against Leo's lips. He pulls away and his hands wander to Leo's ass again, spreading his cheeks enough to see if there's any visible damage.

His heart lightens.

No blood. Just pink and little swollen entrance. He slowly pushes his index finger inside to the slick heat, and Leo gasps at that, but David suspects that it's for over-sensitivity, not for a real pain. His finger comes out wet with come and lube, but without any blood. David lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Leo would sure be sore, but there wasn't any damage done.

"What is it, then?" David whispers and traces Leo's cheek with a gentle hand, hardness all melted away.

"It doesn’t hurt, no, I just - I just missed you," Leo murmurs. He is calmer now. Breathing through his nose and blinking his red rimmed eyes. His hands are still shaking as he fumbles for David, pulling him closer.

David shifts and moves next to Leo, pulling the younger man against himself. Leo snuggles even closer and tucks his head under David's chin. His arms are surprisingly strong, wrapped around David's middle.

"I know," David says. "I love you," he adds too, after a second. Leo tenses in his arms.

Then he wriggles up, lifting his head enough to look David in the eye.

"I love you, too." Leo's eyes and voice hold in so much emotion and sincerity that it helps David's heart to beat even more easily. He brushes Leo's cheekbone and smiles.

It's easier to breath.

Easier to be.

He pulls Leo in a soft kiss.

Neither of them wants to move and finally they fall asleep on the rumbled, come stained sheets, snuggled against each others. David can't find himself to care as he pulls a blanket over sleeping Leo and himself.

 

+

 

Leo avoids both Neymar and Pique on the next practices.

Ney is easy – he seems to be as embarrassed as Leo and doesn't try to be alone with him.

Gerard is definitely harder thing to deal with. His blue eyes seem to find Leo all the time and he comes to talk with Leo constantly. The smaller man tries to excuse himself and not to be alone with Pique, but finally the tall man pulls him off Andres who he was working with. Damn, the man can be stubborn.

"Come on, we're going to stretch," he grunts and drags Leo to the side of pitch.

Leo thinks that he only likes being manhandled by David.

On the side of the pitch Leo flops on the grass, wincing when a pain shoots through his lower body when he lands on his ass. He furrows his brows at annoyance when Pique lets out muffled snort, covering it badly with a cough. He keeps his head down, avoiding the eye contact with Gerard, who helps to stretch his tights.

They stretch a minute in silence. Leo is flexible, but the tall man presses way too hard and his sore ass prevents his moving more than usually.

"Ah, _puta_!" Leo grunts when the pain becomes too much, "Stop pressing so much, you asshole!"

Gerard only smirks, as if waiting for Leo to talk first. "Caring to explain?" he speaks and eases up, letting Leo's leg little upwards. Leo sighs in relief.

"Explain what?" he asks. He really doesn't know what kind of explanation he owes for Pique, but he knows the tall man wants one.

"What is going on with you? And David?"

Leo swallows. What should he say? Their relationship is actually private thing, but he knows that Pique can be like a dog with a bone. Or, in Leo's case, mother hen with her chicken. He has always been protective of Leo.

"Nothing’s going on, we're fine," Leo grits through his teeth.

Pique just sighs. "Well, at least it's not your sex-life," he says and lifts his eyebrows, and Leo knows that he is blushing bright red. His cheeks burn and he looks away.

"Seriously, the whole team knows that you've been fucked. Before Villa at least had a sense not to go that hard on you before games or practices."

Leo glares up at the tall man. "At least the others are tactful enough not to mention about it," he shots back. Sometimes he hopes that he would be bigger and taller - more intimidating - because Gerard only laughs. And he knows, yeah, he looks like a scolding child. His shorter hairstyle only helped a little.

“Yeah, sure, they don’t mention it to you.”

Leo bites the inside of his cheek and aims a kick on Pique’s hip. Sadly the taller man gets a grip on his ankle before it hits. Gerard smirks down at Leo, but his smile melts away quickly.

Leo keeps looking past him, eyebrows knotted together as he stares the air.

"No, but really, is everything okay?" Pique asks soon again, subtle worry in his tone. "You're not forced into anything you're not comfortable with?" Leo can see him glancing at his red wrists and quickly tugs his long sleeves down.

"No, of course not," he says quietly, trying to sound reassuring. "Come on, Geri, it's David."

Pique looks him with a weird expression that Leo can't figure out.

"Yeah I know. I just didn't know that David had this with him," Gerard murmurs and trails his fingers against Leo's sore wrist.

Leo opens his mouth to defend himself, but Pique stands up swiftly and walks away before he has a change.

Gerard’s words burn in the back of Leo’s mind through the rest of practices.

 _The whole team knows_ … He thought that he had done well, not showing his soreness outside. He had lived with the growing hormone for so many years and dealt the pain that came along with it – he had learned to mask his pain. Or so he had thought.

Obviously he wasn’t doing so good job.

If Geri had noticed, then Xavi and Iniesta had too. And Dani probably. Brazilian talks and jokes all the time, but fuck, that man isn’t blind. And if with some miracle Ney hadn’t noticed, Dani sure has filled him in. Leo makes even a greater deal of avoiding the young Brazilian.

He is happy that the practices end within minutes. He knows that he is acting childish and immature. He just doesn’t know what to say just yet – doesn’t want to know what Neymar thinks of him. Fuck, he had fooled around with him and then showed up to the next practice with a limp and marks on his body.

Leo’s mouth is dry and he almost feels Neymar’s gaze in him on the other side of the pitch.

A relief rushes though him when he hears the whistle for a sign to stop and Leo starts walking away from the pitch when he hears the coach to call up his name. He sighs and turns around, knowing that it isn’t praises for well done practices.

A heavy hand settles down on Leo’s shoulder.

"Leo, I'm not going to say what you should do in your private life,” his coach starts with hushed tone, “But make sure to be in a playing condition to the games. And preferably for the practices, too."

Leo hopes that the grass would swallow him. He looks to the ground and nods " _y_ _es"_ , embarrassment burning on his cheeks. It’s probably first time when he is eager to leave Camp Nou.


	12. Made of glass, made of gold

Neymar grits his teeth and pushes his back further against the wall, because Dani’s expression tells it all. And he doesn’t really want to hear this.

"You did _what_?" Dani asks him, jaw slack and eyes wide. "Made a move on him? Jesus fuck, didn't they teach you anything. Never go down for your teammate," the older man groans and rubs his forehead. "Isn't that like – a number one rule?"

Neymar tenses, feeling like a scolded child.

"Well, that didn't stop Leo and Villa," he snaps quietly back. He knows that he is acting like a stubborn brat, but he can't handle the look Dani is giving him. "Why were they privileged to do what they wanted?"

Dani is now staring him with raised eyebrows; obviously little throw back from Ney's comment. The younger man felt nervous. Maybe telling Dani wasn't so good idea after all.

"Villa was still playing here when they got together," Neymar adds when the awkward silence just stretches.

It took a moment for Dani to get his tongue back. "Well… that's just a whole different thing."

"Why?" Neymar has to ask, "Why is it any different now?"

Dani gives him a tired look, "Because they fucking love each other. Please, Ney, don’t get into this…"

It was a blow. Of course Neymar knew that, but hearing it aloud...it just didn't help.

Well, he had asked for it.

Dani ran a hand through his hair, voice gruff as he spoke, "You know, kid, I love you, but these things you got to be sure of. If some bad blood gets between you and Leo, it could mean bad things to the team spirit. And we really need to focus on our game now."

Of course, that was the reason why the rule even existed. Neymar wasn't stupid.

"So, if this was some drunken thing, you better go to talk to him. Solve things out. You two avoiding each other’s really won’t do any good."

Neymar bites inside his cheek. No matter how good friends he and Dani were, the older man wasn't on his side with this. He already knew that before he even opened his mouth. Still, he had some need to prove himself.

"Their game only got better, then," he says quietly.

"Huh?"

"The last seasons when Villa played here and he and Leo were–" he swallows, "–they had a great connection."

He saw that. He had watched the games.

"Is that what you're seeking? A connection?" Dani asks and straightens his back, "You two have a good connection on the pitch already and it's only getting better every day, you don't need to lay Leo down for that–"

"No, that's not what I meant!" Neymar interrupts. "I just meant that the rules are not always right."

Dani gives him a long, pitiful look. Somehow it’s far worse than anything else. "Yeah, but most of the time they are," the older man says lowly.

Neymar lets out a wavering breath and let his shoulders hunch. He hates the whole situation; hates that Leo didn't look him in the eye and hates that he himself didn't have guts for it either.

A warm hand lands on his shoulder. "I think I understand," Dani says quietly, "Leo is your idol, fuck; he is the best in this planet if you ask from me – it's okay if you have a little crush on him."

Neymar frowns and is about to open his mouth but Dani is faster. "But let’s be honest here – would you still want him like you do if that left foot wasn't worth about millions of dollars?"

Neymar's first reflex was to say _yes_ , but he stops himself to think about it first.

He thinks about it, he seriously thinks it.

Leo at home, wearing one of his white t-shirts and sweatpants, rubbing his tired eyes while eating breakfast. Leo playing Fifa – _because with what universe he wouldn't?_ –dark eyes focused and lips little parted. He thought how Leo had felt under his hands, how it felt kissing him. He remembered Leo on his sheets; panting and moaning and–

"Yes." He blurts out. "Hell, Dani, he is the first guy I've ever had these kind of feelings–“

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Dani cut him off, speaking fast, "He is the first guy because he is who he is on the pitch! You wouldn’t even notice Leo if he wasn't the best. If he stood next to you in a party, you wouldn't look twice at him – I mean, sure he is adorable and all – but you wouldn't want to jump on him... You see him only now when he is on top of the world."

Neymar pushes the hand off his shoulder, suddenly feeling hurt and defensive. "Wow, thanks for telling me how I feel."

Dani looks him with sad eyes. "I just don't want either of you getting hurt."

Neymar gets up, feeling something to string on his chest. Did no-one really care how he felt; how he ached? "Maybe I really care Leo for himself, is that really so absurd thought?"

There was a screaming silence before Dani spoke again, not even answering his question. "Have you thought about this in Leo's perspective? Or David's?"

For a second, Neymar is very close of doing something violent; a good punch to the wall and table. Pain would at least distract him from his hurt and betrayed feelings. He thought that Dani would at least understand him.

He breaths a few times deep. Screaming and kicking would only prove Dani's point.

"How are you so sure that that's not what Villa had in mind?” he finally asks. “How are you so sure that Leo’s fucking golden foot didn't have any effect on him? Why are you on his side?"

Dani rubs his face, "I'm not on his side, I’m not on anyone's side! Hell, Ney..."

"I hope you had this same conversation with them, too." Neymar feels tired of being treated like a kid who doesn’t know what he is feeling. Leo had been young too, when he had started with Villa. And he’s not a fucking teenager anymore. Neither of them is.

"It wasn't the same, back then..." Dani mumbles to his hands.

Ney narrows his eyes. "Why? How the hell that was different?"

"Ney, stop doing this to yourself..." Dani groans.

"No, seriously, I want to know! Why?" Dani lifts his head from his hands, looking directly into Neymar’s eyes. His gaze is pleading. _Please, back down. Now, when it’s not too late._

"Because you saw it, then,” Dani finally says, “You saw it when they were together, on party or barbecue or in the dressing room…the way David fucking looks at him – touches him."

Neymar watches him silently, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

“Because what I see in David’s eyes is love. In yours I see worship,” Dani continues quietly, “The difference, kid.”

“Don’t say that, I’m not a fucking kid anymore,” Ney says, voice tight. Not like he really cares, but he has to say something before the tears come.

Neymar kind a wants to hate Leo – blame him for his paralyzing heart ache – but he can’t. He wants to blame Villa too, but can’t do that either, because he probably would've done everything same if he had been in his boots.

He badly wants someone to accuse, someone to yell and scream, unravel the burden in his chest. But there’s no-one. And that’s the terrible truth. He has no-one to blame, except his own weak, enamored heart. He almost wants to rip it off from his chest. He doesn’t want to feel like this – somehow so heavy and hollow at the same time. Like his insides of his heart was carved out and filled with rocks.

“You’ll get over it,” Dani says quietly next to him. “You’ll find someone else.”

At the moment, Neymar very much doubts that.

 

+

 

David opens the door for a tall man smiling down at him. He is kind of disappointed that it wasn’t the pizza they ordered nearly an hour ago, but he doesn’t let it show.

"Hey," David gives Pique a little smile.

"Hey, Guaje. Is Leo home?" Gerard asks and steps inside, not waiting for an invitation. David closes the door, not even surprised of the blunt behavior. It was Pique after all.

"In the shower. He should be here soon."

"Well, maybe that's good," Gerard says and walks over the couch, "I actually wanted to talk to you."

"Okay?" David frowns, "Uh, do you want something first? We got coke? Juice?"

"No thanks, I'm not staying long," Gerard says and heavy feeling settles on the bottom of David's stomach. This couldn't be good. Gerard was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Okay," David repeats, crossing his arms, "What is it?"

Gerard stares David for a long second, like measuring his options. Like he tries to see through him. _Inside him._

"Geri, what–?" David finally speaks out, frustrated.

"What is going on?"

"Huh?" David frowns, ”What you mean what's going–"

"With Leo," the tall man says, as if that should explain everything. David stares bluntly, not grasping what the other man is expecting.

Gerard huffs out a breath and looks over his shoulder, probably to check that Leo isn't coming. Then he fixes his gaze back to David.

"Man, I don't know what to think. First Leo shows up to our home, looking wrecked and I almost asked whose funerals it was. Then I try to call him – _for a three fucking days_ – and he either ignores me or picks up and claims that everything is fine! And fuck, the practices; he doesn't talk - not like he uses to, and he looks and moves like someone has roughed him up well. And he won't say a single fucking thing on what's going on!"

David can only stare at Gerard with wide eyes when he ends his rant.

"I love you, man, but if you are responsible of that, I will fucking rip your–"

"Whoa, whoa! Wait a bit," David stops him when he understands what Gerard is saying.

"I mean, I don't care if you're into BDSM or something like that, but make sure that–"

"Hey! Slow down, would you?" David holds his hands up, "Do you – I mean, are you saying that I'm abusing him?" he asks, not sure how the tall man can even think he could do anything like that.

"I don't know what to think!" Gerard gestures frantically, "Leo won't talk. And isn't that usual in the abusive relationship – that the victim is too ashamed to ask help."

David doesn't know if he wants to laugh at the stupid accusation or punch Gerard.

He doesn't do either.

"Okay, first; I'm glad that Leo has a friend like you. Good to know that no-one fucks with him when I'm...away. Second; don’t tell me that you’ve watched the Fifty Shadows or what the fuck that movie even was, they tell me it sucks. And third: _fuck you!_ "

Gerard's façade doesn't falter; he just waits for David to go on. That's what David had always liked about Gerard; he doesn't get offended so easily. And he doesn't really dance around the subject.

"Do you honestly think that I could ever hurt him?" David asks.

"Well, no...” Gerard shrugs, “But I couldn't figure anything else either."

David sighs and sits on the coffee table.

"So what is it, then?" Gerard asks quietly.

David licks his lips. "It’s not that easy.”

“It never is, huh?” Gerard mumbles, still looking expectantly at David.

The situation had effected on them all, David knows that. “Leo will tell you. If he wants to.”

“Tell you what?”

Their heads whip to the direction of the voice, where Leo is standing on the door. The side of David’s mouth quirks up when Leo walks to them; hair still damp and few drops of water flowing down along his throat. David wants to lick them. Lick them and then suck a mark on that pale skin.

“Tell me why are you acting like your dog had just died,” Gerard asks, probably tired of being shut out.

Leo smiles at the tall man, and damn, maybe Leo’s poker face is really improved, because it looks actually happy. Or maybe it’s getting better. David deeply hopes that it’s the latter one.

“I don’t have a dog,” Leo says, sounding calm and relaxed. Reassuring. “And everything is fine. Stop worrying so much, Geri.”

David’s hands itches to touch Leo, has since from the second that the younger man came to the room, so he gives himself permission. It’s only Gerard.

He pulls Leo closer from the waistband of his grey sweatpants. Leo gets the hint and bends his neck for the kiss. It’s quick and there’s not even tongue involved, but it still has David’s blood pumping. He swifts on the coffee table, sitting up better to leave a kiss on Leo’s neck too.

“Okay, okay, fine, I get it!” Gerard throws his hands to the air, “Everything is fine.”

David smirks as Leo’s cheeks and neck flush up a little.

Gerard stays for the dinner anyway, eating almost half of the food. David is halfway of complaining about that, but Leo kicks him under the table. _Hard_. David bites his teeth as Leo smiles innocently at him across the table. No wonder that they fear that left foot on the pitch; that has to leave a bruise.

When Gerard leaves, David fits himself on the couch and pulls Leo too, until the younger man is straddling his thighs.

There's a quiet fear in David's mind, a thought that Pique seated deep in him.

He wraps his hand around Leo's waist and uses his other one to pull Leo flush against him. Leo comes easily, body pliant against his as his hands play gently with David's hair. David breathes deeply at the scent of Leo shampoo and closes his eyes.

Leo has never said no to him. But he would, right? If they would ever cross the line, he would.

But David has to be sure.

He tugs gently at Leo's hair until the Argentinean pulls his head up, then guides their lips together. Leo hums quietly at the lazy kiss, sucking David's lower lip when they separate.

"Leo," David whispers and traces his thumb against the soft skin above Leo's sweatpants, just where the shirt has got ridden up. "If something would be too much for you, you would ask me to stop, right?" he asks quietly.

Leo looks at him, puzzled. "What–?”

"In bed," David tries to explain better, "If I would ever cross the line – if you're ever uncomfortable with something – you would ask me to stop, wouldn't you?"

Leo looks at him (too long, David thinks) before he answers.

"Of course I would," he says and kisses the side of David's mouth. "I would, but I trust you enough to, you know – to stretch my limits."

David isn't sure if that is a good thing.

"What? You mean that you... Leo, have you been uncomfortable with something?"

"No! I mean that some things that maybe would be uncomfortable if it was someone else, but with you... I love you. And I trust you." David lets out a breath, thumbing over Leo's bare hip bone.

"I love you too."

"But if it makes you feel better, then yes, I would - _I will_ \- say if something is too much," Leo smiles.

"Okay," David breathes, "Good..."

Leo tilts his head to press his lips on the skin under David's ear. David bends his head and shivers as Leo mouths and nibbles the sensitive skin there.

"Don't worry, I'm not made of glass," Leo murmurs.

David can't help the smile that rises on his lips.

"Oh I know. You're made of gold."


	13. We are eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, again, I'm a slow writer with so little time... Please, be patient with me.
> 
> This chapter wasn't intentional, but the news of Xavi leaving just shook me, so I had to write this. Not relevant for the plot at all, but hope you enjoy!

"So, is it true?" David asks quietly.

He is sitting on the empty staircase and listening the distant noises from the crowd as Xavi sits down next to him. He should get up and go to the stand. They both should. The game starts any minute now.

"What?" Xavi moves his dark eyes to David.

"That you're quitting? Sorry – leaving." David had heard the rumors, but it was still quite hard to believe it. He knew that it was official by now; many magazines had confirmed it, Leo had said about it, but he still wanted to hear it from the man himself.

"That's really not my decision to make," Xavi answers after a long pause, "Can't say that I want to – if it was my decision I would never leave Camp Nou – but I'm not young anymore. And it's important to give the younger ones their change. Help them to improve."

David sighs and leans back. He doesn’t know why the answer still stops something inside him. It’s not like he expected anything else. "It's just...hard to imagine Barca without you."

“Well, I couldn’t continue forever,” Xavi smiles sadly, “And no one is irreplaceable. There will always be the next guy to fill your spot."

David elbows him to the side and forces a smile on his lips too. It’s probably not convincing, but it’s all he can do. "That doesn't mean that you won't remembered."

Xavi’s smile widens a bit more and David thinks that he did well enough. Sounded convincing even though he surely doesn’t feel like it. Not that he thinks that people won’t remember Xavi, no, because they surely do, singing his name after hundred years. It’s the speed of time has just him off of his balance. Xavi had always been there, on the pitch of Cam Nou, wearing the colors of Barcelona. Xavi couldn't leave, he was the definition of Blaugrana.  

It’s suddenly strikes him how much time has passed. How old he has become, and Leo… he has got older too. He’s not the same kid with messy bangs and chewed bottom lip. And how long it has been since he left Barca? David wishes he could stop time; it all slips too fast through his fingers. He wishes that he wouldn’t have to be apart from Leo so much.

"So, how about you?” Xavi asks, “How it's going in the big world?"

David huffs out a small laugh, but it dies in his throat. "Good. It's good,” he swallows, feeling something tightening around his chest. He has a sudden need to see Leo. Feel the warmth of his skin. Hear his voice. Xavi stares at him like he expects something more. David had almost forgotten how bothering Xavi's eyes could be. Those huge orbs that blink like once in a year.

"And...?" Xavi gives him a push, definitely wanting something more.

"And what? Nothing. It's a good team." David shrugs. He doesn’t feel like talking right now.

Xavi sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Okay, spill it out, what is it? Is the coach asshole? Or is it something with Leo?"

"No, it's nothing like that," David sighs and buries his face to his hands, "I've been just thinking that... uh, that maybe I won't sign another contract if they offer me one.” He didn’t intend to say anything, but the words just slip away, fast and quietly. Xavi has that kind of effect on people. David thinks that the man could make anyone talk, just by staring at them.

"Why? I thought that you liked it there?” Xavi says lowly, eyebrows knitted together.

"I do, I do, of course... It's good, but it's not home. God Xavi, you have no idea how I miss it here. How I miss Barcelona." _How I miss him._

"So you won't continue it there?"

David stares at his hands. "One, maybe two seasons at most." He hasn't spoke about his thoughts to anybody yet.

Xavi looks at him with serious expression. "Leo would understand. You know that.”

"What?" David lifts his eyes.

"Leo won’t go anywhere. He won't mind if you continue there. If anything he blames himself if he is the reason you quit." David knows that Xavi has a point, but that’s not the reason he’s been thinking about it.

"I know that!” David doesn’t know why he feels so defensive, “I wouldn’t do it for him, I’d do it – come on, when have I ever done anything for anyone else than myself."

Xavi looks at him annoyingly knowing. "Oh, you could have me fooled. Leo has effectively pulled out that _oh, so caring_ side of you."

David sighs, but won't deny it. You can’t lie to Xavi. There’s probably some kind of lie sensor detected in his brains.

"I'm not saying that Leo isn't a big reason for this," he starts, "-because he is. Fuck, he is the major reason. But I'm greedy, I do this for myself. I want happiness. I want him,” he swallows, feeling horribly exposed in front of the other man, “I don’t want to wake up one day and realize that I’m forty and spend more time away from him than with him.” The last of his sentence come out as a whisper and David hates it. He feels Xavi looking at him but doesn’t turn his head to meet the gaze.

“Bullshit Guaje, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re not old. And Leo is not old,” Xavi says with a harsh voice that is oddly comforting, “You have time. Plenty of it.”

David gives him a smile what is probably the first genuine one on their whole conversation. But the number 33 still feels big. And by the time Leo will be 30, he will be 36. Fuck. _It’s just a number_ , David tries to echo in his head, _just a number_.

“So what are you planning of doing in here?” Xavi raises his brows.

"I don’t know. Maybe I start coaching kids? Or write a book?”

Xavi snorts. "Since when you've known anything about writing?"

"I don't," David smirks, "But I learn quickly."

He hears faintly the opening whistle through the voice of the crowd.

“We should go,” he says and gets up. He takes a few steps down the stairs and turns his head back to find Xavi still sitting on his place.

"When did you plan to tell Leo?" the older man asks before David gets to open his mouth.

David doesn’t even ask how the other man knows that Leo has no clue about his intentions. He licks his lips and thinks a long second before answering, "When I won't sign the next congrats. Or when I pop up to his house with my packing’s...or when I ask him to marry me." He has dropped the bomb, he knows that. A bomb he had been keeping safe in his mind – and wanted to keep safe until Leo’s eyes would meet the thin, golden ring.

David feels a deep satisfaction to see Xavi's eyes get even bigger. It's not often you get him speechless.

“Wow,” Xavi finally exhales, "Been thinking that a long?"

"A year or so,” David pushes his hands deep into his pockets, “Found the ring three months ago, accidentally. From Cuba." Very plain ring, actually. It doesn’t even have any stones on it, just a thin band of white gold, but David thinks that Leo would probably like it. Beautiful and simple. Just like Leo.

"What's stopping you now?" Xavi tilts his head.

"I want to give him more than a ring,” David bites the inside of his cheek, “I don't want to promise him ' _until death us parts_ ' and then fly away the next morning. I'll tell him when I come back."

Xavi still doesn’t move from his place, and David kind of wants to remind him of the game, but he doesn’t.

"This is something I didn't expect from you,” Xavi says so quietly that David has a trouble catching it.

"Me neither." David smiles. _Me neither._

 

+

 

_Can we be eternal,_

_even if the time slips through our fingers?_


	14. Hope fucks you up

Whoever Neymar expected to see when he opens the door, it most certainly isn’t Leo.

But there he is. Standing on Neymar’s doorstep, looking as nervous as Neymar suddenly feels.

“Uh, hey. I brought your shirt,” Leo blinks up at him. It takes too long for Neymar to realize that Leo is actually handing the blue t-shirt for him, because his eyes are glued to Leo’s.

Leo looks pale. At least paler than usual and that’s something. His dark eyes are flicking up and down nervously, like he doesn’t know where to look. Neymar feels nervous, too, he can’t deny it. So nervous that he thinks that he might puke out everything he has in his stomach.

"I'm sorry..." Leo's quiet voice hitches little on the last syllable, "Is it bad time? I can come back later.” He takes a careful step back, holding the neatly folded shirt against his chest like it would protect him from something.

“No, no –,” Neymar finally gets his voice back, “Sorry. I just didn’t expect anyone… come in.”

He steps back to let the smaller man in. Leo takes a long, measuring look of Neymar before stepping in.

Neymar walks to the kitchen, assuming that Leo will follow him even when he doesn’t hear his steps. It’s a little bit eerie, how quiet the man can move. Like a cat.

“Do you want something?” he asks, already taking two glasses from the cabinet. He knows why he acts like this, but he can’t help it. He needs to buy some time to get himself together.

“Whatever you’re having,” Leo says and Neymar hears the chair scraping the floor as the Argentinian sits down. Neymar pours two glasses of juice (slower than necessary), and gives one to Leo. He can feel Leo’s eyes following him when he leans against the counter, taking a sip.

“So, is that my shirt?” he asks to end the silence. “I’ve been wondering where that one is. It’s my favorite, you know.” He cracks a smile to let Leo know that he is joking, but maybe it isn’t convivial enough, because Leo’s face seems to get even paler.

“I’m sorry. I would have returned it earlier, but – um. Sorry,” Leo says and places the shirt carefully to the table.

Neymar bites his lip. He doesn’t like how tight and nervous Leo suddenly is in his presence. Well, yeah, Neymar is nervous too, but he suspects that it’s for a whole another reason.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just joking,” Neymar smiles. He is happy to see Leo returning a small one.

Neymar wonders if Leo would stop him if he kissed him now. Would he squirm away at first again? Would he give in and let Neymar to kiss him breathless like in the pool? Neymar is almost giving it a shot, but Leo speaks up before he has gathered courage enough.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Leo starts quietly, “For whatever happened here. And if you want to keep a little distance for a while, I totally understand–“

That’s the point where Neymar falls off. _If you want to keep a distance?_ Why the hell would he want to do that?

The way Neymar squints his eyes and tilts his head only makes Leo’s shoulders to sag more. Neymar can see how he is trying to press further into his chair. It hurts. It hurts Neymar like nothing before. That Leo is like that with him.

“-and I know that being drunk doesn’t excuse anything, but I promise that I never let it happen again,” Leo finishes quickly. And what makes Neymar feel even worse, is that Leo’s words and clearly practiced. Over and over.

But what he still doesn’t understand is Leo’s apology. _What the fuck he was being sorry for?_ Did it somehow seem that Neymar didn’t want it? Because that was fucking impossible!

Neymar had stripped him, pulled him the pool and kissed him. Kissed him until they both couldn’t breathe. Then took Leo to his bed, touched him all over and made him writhe and moan. Neymar had fucking fingered him off.

So in what point Leo did get that impression that Neymar _didn’t want it?_

Hell, he probably would have fucked Leo if certain things didn’t happen. Or more likely; certain names wouldn’t have been said.

Neymar had actually imagined that over and over after that night. How he would have fucked Leo. His daydreams have actually been little torn apart, because he didn’t know would he like to push Leo’s back to the sheets and spread his legs, or have him on all fours, squeezing the pillow under his hands. He had imagined how Leo would have sounded – or actually, he didn’t have to imagine. He knew the sounds Leo made. All the breathy moans and low whines.

“Do you want me to go?” Leo asks, placing his untouched drink to the counter.

“What?” Neymar blinks at him, “No! No, stay. Please…”

Leo nods, lowering his gaze to his own lap. Neymar stands up, stepping closer to Leo; who (for his disappointment) leans back in his chair. It makes his chest ache.

And Neymar doesn’t know is he braver than ever or just plainly stupid, but he runs his finger through Leo’s hair. Maybe he’s just desperate. For touch. For Leo’s affection. Maybe.

_Probably._

Leo’s hair is soft; like silk under his hand. He smooths a few times through the locks before moving on Leo’s neck. The skin there is unusually cool. Or maybe Neymar himself is just burning. He doesn’t say anything, but maybe he should’ve, because Leo looks so utterly and completely confused. And Neymar's hand is still on Leo's neck, thumb moving and caressing the soft skin there.

Neymar swallows and tries to figure out what to say. What he wants to say and how to start. But it’s Leo who speaks first.

“Uh... Ney. Are you drunk?"

"If I say no, will you believe me?" Neymar asks, hand now moving to caress Leo’s clavicle.

Leo blinks once, twice, dark eyes in a huge contrast against his pale cheekbones. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” he says slowly, obviously confused.

Neymar licks his lips. "So if I said that I wanted you that night, you will believe me?" he says, before he can stop himself. “If I said that I wanted you now. Wanted you a long before that night.”

Leo's dark eyes grow even wider, and Neymar can feel under his fingertips the sharp intake of air he takes.

Neymar’s hand keeps caressing Leo’s throat and the line of his jaw. His hands are shaking, but he doubts that Leo notices.

The question stays there like a ghost. Heavy, hanging in the air between them. And Leo is frozen for a too long time. So long, that a panic starts to creep up in Neymar's throat.

Finally Leo moves; he gives a weak smile and stands up, stepping away from Neymar's touch.

"Okay, you got me," Leo says quietly, smiling a little nervously, "But please be serious now. Do we-"

"I am being serious," Neymar says, louder than he intends, but for a God's sake, _Leo can't be so blind_. He can't possibly believe that Villa is the only one wanting him; can't believe that Neymar would just play with him like that. "For a fuck's sake Leo, I want you. I've wanted you in my bed long before that night," he says, little out of breath.

"No," Leo says quietly, but sternly. His pale cheeks are flushed now, "You don't. I know myself; I'm not what people want." There's a little hint of pain in his voice that Neymar flinches at. "The alcohol must have fucked up your memories, but it's not what you think. Trust me. You don't want me."

Neymar gives out a dry, sad laugh. "But I do. Why is it so hard for you to believe."

"Because people don't want me!"

"David wants you," Neymar argues.

"Yeah. I don't know what's with him," Leo says defensively, looking more confused every passing second. Neymar grits his teeth. He can't recall when this conversation turned into argue.

"Well, he's the one who had said it aloud. Agüero lusts after you, too. You see it even through the TV."

Leo furrows his brow at that. "He doesn't-"

"He does. And Jordi does. But of course you can't see how he looks at you when you bend over. And Higuain and Adriano," he counts the names with his fingers and Leo blushes harder at every name. Neymar isn’t actually so sure about all of them; he had just concluded those from the way they have been looking at Leo. He is observant and has a good people skills; he knows when it’s not just an admiration.

Fuck, Leo really can't believe so little about himself.

He is adorable. Especially when he looks so confused, like now. He's funny, too, cracking jokes when he is with familiar people. And hot, oh so fucking hot when he is splayed on the sheets, writhing and panting and moaning.

“Don’t do this, Ney, please,” Leo pleads and runs his hands through his hair.

_I’m sorry, but I need to. I need to know if I have any changes._

But Leo’s desperate voice hurts him too much, so he moves closer and wraps his arms around Leo’s thin waist.

It’s nothing sexual, just a comforting gesture. And maybe it’s just a reflex, but Leo’s arms come to circle around Neymar’s neck, too. For a moment it feels so familiar and comforting that Neymar could almost forget their whole conversation. It’s a place where Neymar knows he belongs. Next to Leo.

They just click on too well. On the pitch and out of it. Neymar doesn’t know if that makes him believe in God, or fate, sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes him believe in something.

"So...? Do you think that we – Could we be anything?" Neymar asks with a low voice. He tries to keep his hopes down; not to expect anything. Leo is with Villa now, after all.

Leo tenses against him, arms loosening around Neymar’s neck.

"I don't ask you to dump Villa – uh, David – or forcing you to choose. Just... Please think about it," he continues before Leo can move away.

But Leo pushes him away anyway, hands squeezing the front of Neymar’s shirt. Leo’s head is hanging down and he is shaking his head, bottom lip caught between his lips.

Neymar doesn’t know why he clings onto that little piece of hope inside him. But he does. He can’t think of doing otherwise. At least now he will know that he had tried. Now he can’t regret it, can't say that he didn’t go for it. He lets Leo to step back, but lingers his left hands on his hip.

"Just give me one change, Leo, it's all I ask," he whispers.

Leo swallows thickly. "I - I... It's better if we don't, you know – try," he finally gets out. Neymar watches him for a whole second, waiting to hear the 'but'. It doesn’t take him a long to realize that it's not coming.

"I’m sorry, Ney," Leo whispers, voice hoarse, “–I really care about you. But I love him.”

 _Care_ , Neymar’s brains clings to that word. _Care, not love_. And Neymar thought that he was prepared to the worst. But that little spark of hope had still been there and that’s what fucks you up. That’s what kills you.

At least Neymar believes so, because the ache in his chest is almost unbearable. _Is this what heart attack feels?_

Neymar clears his throat, tries to swallow the lump down. “If it wasn’t for him… would I have a change at all?”

Leo’s eyes shot up to his. He looks strained and tired. And despite Neymar’s own pain, he desperately wants to pull Leo close again. Or just brush his cheek. Kiss his hair.

_Anything._

Leo chews his lower lip. “I – It’s stupid to think ifs and maybes,” he says. “But if you must know… then probably yes.”

Neymar has to lower his gaze, because he feels tears burning in his eyes, trying to spill over. He blinks, hoping to vanish them.

"Shitty luck I got then, huh," Neymar gives out a dry, humorless laugh. Leo doesn't say anything to that. Just wipes his cheek with a quick move of hand. It’s not quick enough thought; Neymar got to see the small tear rolling on his cheek.

"I should go," Leo breathes out.

Neymar nods stiffly.

Leo takes his jacket and they walk to the door.

Neymar feels like he should say something, but he can’t come up with anything. His mind is blank.

Leo turns around to face him before he opens the door. “So…we'll see tomorrow," he says unexpectedly, with a quiet voice, "At the training."

For a second Neymar is too shocked to speak, to even think that there is such a normal thing they share like trainings. It feels absurd that they're going to see tomorrow – this had felt too much of a goodbye.

"Yeah," Neymar eventually speaks up, "Training's."

Then he moves forward, surprising both Leo and himself and pins Leo to the front door.

Leo gasps, but doesn’t push Neymar away when he presses their lips together. He doesn’t move away, but doesn’t respond either. When Neymar realizes that he moves to leave tiny kisses on Leo’s cheek. Then jaw and throat. He feels Leo breathing heavily under his hands. He spreads his palms on Leo’s ribcage, smooths along his sides and hips. Then he pulls away.

Leo’s expression is pained and Neymar feels sorry for that, but he doesn’t regret anything. It was the last thing he got, so he doesn’t regret it at all.

"Okay," Neymar echoes quietly, "Training's." He brushes their lips briefly one more time before pulling away.

Leo nods before opening the door and stepping out, leaving Neymar to the other side.

Neymar feels oddly empty after that.

Not sad and crushed like he expected. Just empty. Sucked dry. Like all the life had left him when Leo left the house.

He wanders back to the kitchen. Leo’s untouched glass of juice is still on the table and suddenly he feels angry. He doesn’t know where it comes from or where to unravel it. It just not fair; Neymar didn’t even get a change. Change to prove that he could be just as good as David. Or even better. Change to make Leo see how happy he could make him.

He takes Leo’s glass and throws it to the wall with all his strength.

It doesn’t help at all.

 

+

 

The drive to the home is completely mechanical – Leo doesn't take in any scenery, barely even remembers the whole trip home. He barely even notices his wet cheeks.

 _Why did you fall for me?_ he thinks. _I'm not good enough for you, hell, I'm not good enough for David, and heaven knows why he forgave me, why he is still here with me._

He hated that expecting expression what Neymar had had. Like he was waiting something more. But Leo got nothing more to give. Even at the start, he didn't have much to give.

People generally seemed to expect more from him because who he was. And Leo hates that too.

Because he is not great outside the pitch, he doesn't blow minds or amaze everyone. Football is so big part of him that sometimes he thinks, that if it got taken away from him, what would be left? An empty shell with nothing to give? Worthless? Useless?

It’s a soul freezing, horrifying thought.

David is still the biggest reason why he feels that he is more than just a football; that it's not only thing in him. _And he needs to feel that_. Needs to feel appraised and loved when he least feels like that; when his skin is too tight on him and it's hard to breath. Because David looks at him with more affection when he sees Leo at home, in his fluffy hoodies and different pair of socks – not in his Barca's kit.

And Leo really needs that – _he craves it_ – because it's lonely at the top where everyone looks up to you just for your skill, not for who you are.

Leo snaps back to himself when he is at the doorsteps, looking at David's dark brown eyes.

He must have looked terrible; bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks – because David draws him in his arms right away. Guides him to the bed and holds him when Leo shakes with the quiet sobs and grips David's shirt even tighter. A hushed soothing and quiet murmurs calms him eventually down, as much as the warm and solid arms around his frame.

He feels guilty, because he doesn't deserve this from David – yet he still absorbs all comfort like a drying, wizened flower.

He presses his wet cheek on David's collarbone and breathes heavily after he has no tears left and his eyes feels heavy. He feels numb; like he had cried out all of his feelings and doesn't have anything left but exhaustion.

David doesn't ask about it; he doesn't have to. And Leo is glad for that. He thinks that he wouldn’t even have any strength to deal with anything.

He is almost asleep when David moves under him. Leo reflexively tightens his grip and lets out a panicked, choked noise.

"Shh. Calm down. I just go to the kitchen,” David says to him with a low voice. “You need water. You're dehydrated. I'll be back soon, baby," David murmurs on his ear and kisses his flushed cheeks while preying Leo's death grip off himself.

It's stupid, but he can't relax again until David is back, handing him a big glass of water. After drinking it, David helps him off his clothes. Leo snuggles against him when they get under the sheets, breathing the scent of David's skin. His eyes feel sore and the skin around them is probably red too.

The last thing he knows is David’s kisses his forehead.

It's a miracle, really, how peaceful he feels when he finally falls asleep.


	15. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've had a little break, I'm sorry. There has been a lot going on in my life now. Anyway, this is the last chapter, I hope you enjoy!

_One year later._

 

Leo steps out of the car in front of the small sea restaurant. David is quick next to him, palm warm and steady on Leo's hip, pushing him gently towards the door.

Leo didn't actually think that they could spend this day together. Their anniversary. Not that they ever really did much to celebrate it, but it was nice. It was four years after all.

David is wiping his sweaty hands to his dark jeans when they step inside. He is also worrying his lower lip in a way that makes Leo both aroused and anxious. Because David looks nervous and that's just not right. No, that would be Leo from the two of them. David is balanced, confident; _sure of himself_. Leo is the one who worries his lip until it bleeds, the one who looks lost in crowd, who hides himself in hoodies.

David has been behaving strangely since he arrived this morning, pushing Leo against the front door and kissing him until they both ran out of breath. No, that wasn't the weird part. The weird part started after David had fucked him on the couch and the bliss of their orgasms had faded.

Leo had just asked David a bunch of questions, like his plans for near future and how long was he gonna stay. That's when David got weird. He bypassed Leo's questions with a shrug and incoherent mumbling. Leo had frowned, but dropped the matter.

But it wasn’t just that. The whole day David seemed antsy, walking around the house, never leaving his phone. Leo overheard one of the hushed phone calls David had in the bathroom. _"...no, he doesn't know... Yes, I'm sure! If you didn't slip anything – Yeah, look I've thought this through, I think it's better like this–"_

That was the point when Leo walked away, not only because it was rude to eavesdrop, but also because he didn't want to hear more. He didn't want to think what he might had heard if he did.

Leo’s brains started to make horror scenarios after that. Was it problems in New York, sick relative…? Leo tried hard to think a likely reason for David’s behavior, even thought he knew that it had something to do with him, no matter what he tried to think. Not any relatives or friends or even David’s club.

It drove Leo crazy, knowing that it was about him. But he didn't dare to say or ask anything. He was afraid of the answer. He didn’t want to break his bubble.

So there they were now, inside of an expensive little restaurant, and Leo tries hard not to think that this is some kind of an apology for something. His stomach twist uncomfortably. He sincerely hopes that it's all just his imagination. David could have a many things on his mind. Next season, his weakened knee, _how to break up with Leo with no fuss..._

"They say that this place has a great fish," David interrupts his thoughts. "It looked bigger in the picture, though," he adds under his breath, sounding disappointed.

"I like it," Leo says and gives a stray smile even though his chest feels oddly hollow. "It's cozy."

David turns his head to Leo and smiles back. It eases Leo's nerves a little. But only a little.

They sit down in a corner what has a view to the beach. Leo orders a soup and David a Bacalao and rice. When they start to eat Leo suddenly remembers how Mache had been asking about David lately, like he knows something that Leo doesn't, like he – Leo halts between his bites. _Oh God._ Geri had also been asking about David. And Xavi had looked at him with that weird expression when David got mentioned somewhere.

 _They all knew_. Leo can't believe it, but it must be true. They knew that David was gonna leave him, they fucking knew, David had told them before him...

Leo's stomach twist into a knots and he swallows thickly. He feels betrayed. He tries not to think about it and keeps taking small spoonfuls of his soup. He's glad that he didn't take anything heavier.

They talk, about football and Barcelona mostly. Leo tries to ask about David's plans in New York again, but the older man somehow manages to avoid answering those again; just gives some vague answers and shrug, turning the conversation back to Leo.

Leo bites inside of his cheek. David has never before been reluctant about talking his new team. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about his future plans anymore because Leo will not be part of it anymore. Maybe he doesn't want to share any more than he needs to.

Leo feels sick. He didn't even notice. He didn't even notice that David wasn't happy anymore. Maybe the long distance relationship had finally become too much. It sure as hell isn't easy to be apart so much. Or maybe David just simply doesn't want Leo anymore. Has he found someone new? Someone better?

He pushes his spoon away even though he has more than half left of his soup.

David blinks at him, chewing and swallowing slowly. His eyes are wide; dark and beautiful. "Is it bad?" he asks, sounding worried.

"No, it's good," Leo hurries to say, "I'm just not so hungry." He can't quite manage a smile.

"Really? You've only had a breakfast today." David says, observing Leo closely. Leo feels hot under his gaze and his fingers start to play with the napkin.

"Yeah. Sorry." He keeps his eyes down on his soup.

"Don't be." David's voice is soft and for a second Leo tries to pretend that everything is okay.

 _Don't be stupid_ , he thinks, _if this is your last night with him, at least try to enjoy it_. So Leo tries. He talks back and smiles (or at least tries to), ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest. He promises himself that he lets David go quietly. He won't make any drama out of it, doesn't make it any harder than it needs to be.

After all, it's not David's fault if it doesn't work anymore. If he doesn't want Leo anymore.

Although Leo feels a little disappointed if David decides to break up on their anniversary. And he feels even worse about the sex they had in the morning. Did David even really want it? Or was it just a pity sex? Whatever it was, Leo did manage to bring up quite sounds from the older man. Sounds that David sure as hell didn’t pretend. It makes him feel a little better.

They order a dessert to share. The waiter looks down at Leo disapprovingly when he takes away his almost full dish. Leo gives an apologizing smile.

He manages a few spoonfuls of the cheesecake, but David eats most of the dessert, too. David also pays the bill even though Leo tries to pay his own part. He feels stupid that David has to pay his soup, especially when Leo barely even touched it. But Leo lets him. _If it helps the guilty feelings_ , he thinks.

Leo hates himself for hoping that David feels guilty or sad. He loves David after all. Leo wants him to be happy. Even if it means that Leo doesn't belong in his life anymore.

It's already dark when they leave the restaurant and Leo doesn't notice for a long time that they're not heading home.

"Where are we going?" he asks quietly, but David just smirks, hand tightening around the wheel.

"Wait and see."

David doesn't say anything else during the short drive, so Leo stays quiet too. Just keeps breathing steadily and watches out as the building and scenery flash by. Wasn’t this just his luck? Just when things got good with Ney again. Guess two good things was just too much to have.

He doesn't know what to think when David finally parks next to Camp Nou and stands off from the car. Leo follows him with a frown.

"What are we doing here?" he asks when David fiddles keys from his pocket and opens the door to the stadium. "And how did you even get the key?"

David smiles at him, dark and tempting, and suddenly Leo's chest aches twice as hard. He can't believe that he might lose this. Lose David.

"I have connections," David says with a smile on his lips, "I used to play here, remember?"

Leo doesn't answer. They slip inside; the corridors are eerie and quiet without the usual noise and life. It feels nice when David takes his hand and laces their fingers together as they walk through the dim corridor. Leo squeezes his hand, allowing himself this little moment of closure.

They walk past the changing room, to the tunnel and finally to the pitch. The big lights are off; only the little lamps on the sides of the pitch are on, casting a little light. Leo looks up, glancing at the sky and the stars. Stars that usually won't be seen because of the bright lights on the pitch.

There's a lump in Leo's throat and suddenly it's hard to breathe anymore.

He can't do it here, not in this place that has so big meaning to him. He can't come here tomorrow, because this will always be the place where he met David, and probably soon the place where he has to say him goodbye. Maybe David thought that this place would bring him comfort; maybe he didn't think that now every time when he steps on Camp Nou he remembers this moment.

He stops abruptly, letting go of David's hand. David stops too, turning his head to Leo, one eyebrow arching upwards.

Leo draws in a sharp breath. Whole day he had pretended to go along with it, pretended that everything is fine, but he can't do that anymore.

"I can't do this," he says quietly, hating how his voice wavers a little. "I'm sorry David. I can’t."

He turns to leave. Maybe it's easier this way; David doesn't need to explain, Leo doesn't have to listen.

"Leo? _Leo!?_ " There's a lace of panic in David's voice when he calls for him, but Leo doesn't stop. He needs to get out, he needs to breathe. It feels like an iron ware around his ribcage, suffocating him. He can't do this, he can't, _he can't.._.

"Leo, what the hell?" David spins Leo around with a strong grip around his bicep. "What are you talking about? You can't do what?" David is pulling him close, but Leo keeps his hands on David's chest; keeps his distance. Trying to breathe.

There's a familiar tingle in his gut and he feels dizzy, but he's not going to throw up, no, he's not going to be that pathetic. He shuts his eyes and takes a long, quivering breath in.

"Leo?" David asks again, worry clear in his voice.

"I know why you are doing this," is all that Leo manages to get out.

David blinks down at him, "You do?" he asks, confused.

"Yeah, I do," Leo mumbles and squeezes David's navy blue sweater with his hands, "And please, let's not do it here, because I can't handle it – I really can't David, I know you meant good, but I can't...-" He doesn't realize that there is a tears on his cheeks until David wipes them away and shushes him.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Shh," David cradles Leo against his chest, ignoring the younger man's futile struggle to pull away. It takes a minute for Leo to calm his breathing down and even longer to realize that he isn't pushing David away anymore, but rather clinging on him.

David's arm is firm around his waist, and Leo doubts that he wouldn't have any energy for even to try to get away. David's other hand is playing with the short hair on Leo's neck.

"Is it this place?" David says quietly, finally breaking the silence with taut question. "Or is the whole question just too much?"

Leo furrows his brow, trying to make sense what David just said. "What?" he croaks from David's shoulder.

David sighs, "Shit, I'm sorry, I should have talked you about this first...-"

Leo doesn't know why, but suddenly he feels very tired. Tired of pussyfooting around the matter. It doesn’t make it any easier. Nor does any fancy dinners. He pushes David's arms off and steps away. David looks absolutely wrecked and for a second Leo feels bad for him, before he remembers that he's not the one who's ending it here. David isn't the one who should have Leo's sympathy or comfort. But he does anyway.

He has Leo’s heart after all.

"You know... if you wanted to break up, you could just said so. I don't need any pity dinners or anything," he says quietly, trying to steel his heart and sound firm, but God, he can't fake it anymore. He feels tired and vulnerable, ready to shatter in peaces again from a tiniest push. And he knows that he sounds just like that.

David is gaping at him; closing his mouth only to open it again, but letting no sound out.

"Uh, maybe I should leave?" Leo didn’t mean it to come out as a question, but it does.

That's when David makes low voice in his throat, running his hands through his hair. "You thought that – you seriously thought that I was – _fuck_!"

He steps closer again, pulling Leo in a passionate kiss by a grip on his neck. And Leo is confused and weak so he kisses back; takes everything what David is still willing to give.

"Oh my God, Leo, you're so stupid sometimes, I can't believe that you thought that," David breathes against his lips as they part, and Leo hates that small sound that escapes from him, but fuck; he wants to kiss David again. "Well, maybe that's a little my fault, too," David keeps muttering quietly, mostly at himself probably.

Leo makes a questioning sound in his throat, seriously confused now.

David steps away. Not far, just a few inches and his hands lingering on Leo's throat.

"I'm sorry, Leo," he says, "I'm sorry if you thought that I don't love or want you, even though that's the most stupid thing your insecure brains had make up this far." Leo takes a shuddering breath, feeling like he can finally breath normally again. So he did read things wrong, _thank God he did_.

He feels suddenly very stupid of his own reaction.

"Leo..." David is chewing his bottom lip again, "I love you and – _fuck_ , this isn't going like I planned at all..."

Leo blinks, "What you planned?" he asks.

David doesn't answer, but licks his lips and takes something from the pocket of his jacket. A small dark box and Leo knows what those things mean, but he refuses to think about it. Or more likely his brains refuse to think about anything. It's completely blank.

But then David is kneeling in front of him, on the grass of quiet Camp Nou, and no, Leo didn't expect this at all...

David opens the little box and Leo is close enough to see that his hands are trembling slightly.

"Leo..." David says, looking up at him with his beautiful, dark eyes, and Leo doesn't know which shines more brightly; the ring in the box or his eyes... "Will you marry me?"

+

David swallows his dry throat, watching up at the man of his life, ignoring that his hands are shaking as he holds the little satin box. He has a fucking right to be nervous.

He hadn't give even a thought to the possibility that Leo would say no, but now it comes creeping up, when the silence stretches. Leo stands there, frozen, with a hand over his mouth, chest falling and rising rapidly.

"Leo?" Leo's hand leaves from over his mouth, but he still doesn't say anything and David starts to feel a little anxious. _What if this isn't what Leo wants after all?_ But then he nods. Or at least David thinks he nods, he can't be sure; it was such a tiny motion.

Leo falls on his knees too and nods again, this time more subtly.

" _Yes?_ " David breathes out the question. Leo's gaze flicks between David and the ring, as if one of them could suddenly disappear if he looks away long enough.

"Yes?" Leo echoes his word. His huge, dark eyes now fixed on David's. "Yes," he says then again, more firmly.

"Fuck, yes!" David can't help his stupid grin. He surges in for a kiss, pushing Leo's back down on the grass. Leo moans quietly in the kiss; parting his lips for David's tongue and spreading his thighs and fuck, David wants to do it here, _on the god damn pitch_ , and he knows that there's many reasons why they shouldn't, but he can't think a single one at the moment.

Leo wraps his legs around David's hips, grinding up against him, drawing a groan from David. Leo's hands are already trying to pull up his shirt, but David seizes him with a grip on his wrist. "Wait. One more thing," he breathes and nuzzles Leo's neck, before sitting up and grabbing the box that was now lying abandoned next to them.

He slips the ring from the box and tosses the box away again. Leo is staring up at him with blown pupils, parted lips and flushed cheeks. David takes a hold of Leo's wrist again, pulling the hand closer to his face and kissing the fingertips.

"Will you…" David starts lowly, sucking Leo's index finger between his lips and twirling his tongue around it. Leo takes a sharp breath when David lets it go with a quiet bob. "...Lionel Andrés Messi-" David prolongs,. "-be mine, until the death us parts."

Leo swallows and blinks up at him, and David can feel his fluttering pulse from his wrist. "Yes," he says with a thick voice.

David smiles and slips the ring on Leo's finger. It fits perfectly and David grins down at him, because hell, Leo does look good with it.

"Can I kiss the bride?" David teases and dips his head down. Leo glares at him, but kisses back anyway. He, however, bites David's lower lip hard enough for David to jerk back.

"Fuck you, I'm not the bride," he smirks up at David, who licks his sore lip.

"Oh, you so are the bride," David says, smiling devilishly, because of course he can't back off. It's not in his nature. Leo smiles and pushes David off himself and on the grass, straddling the older man’s hips.

They’re kissing again and it’s hard and sloppy and passionate as they try to undress each other’s without breaking the kiss. They manage only to get half of their clothes off; Leo’s still having his rumpled, white t-shirt on and David still has his jeans tangled on his knees when he reaches for the lube on his jacket. He maybe feels a little dizzy, because it feels a little surreal; _are they really going to fuck in the middle of the stadium?_

The air is cool against his skin, but Leo feels warm against his skin and even hotter around his slick fingers that stretch Leo hastily. Leo breaths come shallow and quick as he grinds down on David’s fingers, his arms firmly against David’s shoulders. “I’m ready, David, please…just – I’m ready,” he begs quietly and David knows he isn’t, not really, it was only the second finger. But he doesn’t call on him this time.

He pulls his fingers away, ignoring Leo’s low whine and slicks himself up. His fingers shake a little; enough that there lube not only on his cock, but on Leo’s thighs and legs, too. Leo lifts his hips enough for David to line up. And then he is lowering himself again and every thought leaves David's head. He is biting his lip again, this time tasting blood, but doesn’t care; not when Leo is so fucking tight and hot around him.

Leo’s breath is erratic as he slowly keeps lowering himself on David’s cock, hands digging almost painfully to David’s shoulders. There’s too much lube and too little preparation. David’s fingers are still slick with it as he kneads and squeezes Leo’s plump ass. Fuck, he really is obsessed with it.

And then finally, fucking finally, Leo is down all the way. Leo gives out a shuddering breath and David groans against his skin as he kisses and nibbles Leo’s pale throat. “You feel so good, fuck, Leo, you’re so tight–,” David keeps babbling, not really paying attention of what comes out of his mouth.

He kneads Leo’s cheeks again and then spreads them apart, doing a tiny upward thrust that leaves Leo gasping, even thought he is already as deep as he can go. Then gives a slap on Leo’s ass and fuck, Leo tightens around him even more, moaning David’s name. David closes his eyes and fights the urge to just let it go; fuck Leo to the oblivion.

But he waits. He always waits.

“Okay?” he asks with a hoarse voice, “You good, baby?”

Leo nods, face buried to David’s neck, but David really needs hear him to say it aloud since he can’t see Leo’s expression. “Words, Leo?”

Leo withdraws his head, guiding their mouths together again. Leo, surprisingly, takes a whole control of the kiss, moving his tongue against David’s, stealing his breath away.

“Fuck me, David,” is all he says when he pulls away, nibbling David’s lower lip again for a good measure.

Something warm swells in David’s chest, because that’s all he needs to hear. Or half of it. _I love you David_ and _fuck me David_ ; that’s all he needs.

The pace he sets is too hard for so soon, but Leo doesn’t ask him to stop, so he doesn’t.

But David’s hands are still slick from the lube, and his grip from Leo’s hips keeps slipping. He can’t get a good hold. Leo yelps from surprise when David halts his thrusts, tipping Leo backwards until he is on his back again. And David is thrusting in again, before Leo can even ask for it. His grip on Leo’s thighs is still slipping as he spreads Leo’s legs apart, but he manages it now.

It’s fast and hard and it’s not long until Leo is on the edge; his breath pushing out of him as a little gasps in rhythm of David’s thrusts. David thinks for a second that maybe he should jerk Leo off, but decides not to. He knows by the tiny sounds Leo is making that he is hitting that little spot with every thrust, so he doesn’t need to touch Leo’s cock to make him come.

“Fuck… _Dav-id_ ,” Leo gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.

David really doesn’t know if he can last either. “Leo,” he breathes out, voice hoarse. “ _Come for me_.”

And Leo does.

He does so beautifully; with a broken moan, arching his back with eyes squeezed shut. And David comes too, because Leo tightens around his cock, squeezing him so hard, that for a second David’s vision whites out. He groans lowly, thrusting a few times into Leo again, riding off his orgasm.

“Fuck.” Leo’s voice is only a quiet rasp.

“Fuck,” David echoes as he collapses on top of Leo, catching his breath. “That was intense.”

Leo only hums and wraps his arms around David shoulders, drawing lazy patterns on his skin. David still can’t really believe that they did it here.

“Camp Nou, huh?” he says and kisses Leo’s sweaty neck. “Beats the showers and dressing-room. This must go to the top five at least.”

Leo lets out a soundless laugh, “Top three I say.”

David sits carefully up, feeling the heat of the sex starting to cool off; sweat drying on their skins. Leo is already shaking; a goosebumps appearing on his arms and stomach where his come stained shirt has got ridden up. David trails his fingers along Leo’s abdominal muscles and over his hipbone, lingering on the blooming bruise on his hip. Bruise that matches well on David’s hands.

“I like to wear it,” Leo says suddenly. David jerks his head up. He is not really sure if he means the ring or the bruises, but it doesn’t really matter.

They get dressed up quietly, except for Leo’s complains on how he’s all sticky from the come and lube. He squirms in his clothes as they walk back to the car, whining how his boxers are all damp from David’s come that’s slowly dripping out of him. David tries not to laugh.

Leo stops him on the parking lot, pressing David against his car before they can get inside. Leo tips his head a little upwards to kiss him and it’s so different that earlier; it’s with a closed mouth, lips just gently pressing against David’s. David closes his eyes and trails his hands along Leo’s sides, pulling him flush against himself.

Leo’s lips move to kiss David’s cheekbones and then his neck. “Your beard tickles,” he mumbles between his little kisses on David’s throat. David knows that it’s just a distraction. There’s something on Leo’s mind.

“When are you leaving?” Leo finally asks and David had almost forgot that he hadn’t told him. He was supposed to tell Leo as he proposed, but it was such a mess anyway.

“I’m not,” he says, smiling when he feels Leo tense.

“What you mean?” Leo’s quiet voice is full of smothered hope and confusion and it makes David’s inside twist.

“I mean just that,” David assures, “I’m staying here. In Barcelona.”

Leo pulls his face away from David’s neck, “Did you…didn’t you get a new contract?”

“Oh I did, they offered me another three years… I didn’t take it.”

Leo’s brow furrows.”What? Are you stupid? Or was it bad in there? I didn’t know–”

“No, it wasn’t bad,” David interrupts him. Leo looks at him expectantly, hands still hanging from the hem of David’s jacket. “Hey, I can’t start my married life in different country than my bride. What kind of husband do you think I am?” David says quietly and smiles.

Leo punches him gently on the ribs, but his fake annoyance melts away almost immediately. The hope in his eyes is almost painfully to watch, like he doesn’t quite dare make himself to believe it.

“Leo,” he whispers and pulls Leo closer again, “I’m back for good.”

He can’t catch all the emotions flickering in Leo’s eyes, but he doesn’t need to. Leo presses their lips together again, forcing David harder against the car. David cradles his hand back to Leo’s neck, kissing him back just as eagerly.

At the moment he couldn’t care less if a whole Barca team, or media, or even hundreds of fans found them like this.

_He’s home._

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes. English is not my first language.


End file.
